Archive of Our Own

"'Cause it made me feel like I'm dying inside."

As she passed the portrait, Megan stopped dead in her tracks. At that precise moment, the lyrics of the music sounded like a curse. The song cut out the moment Megan touched the screen.

She had never been to this part of the museum before. She spent all her days there, but she had never set foot in the wing dedicated to the Victorian era. It wasn't really what interested her. Megan preferred sculptures and antiquities. And if a painting were to capture her attention, it wasn't the portrait of someone who thought they were important when everyone else had forgotten them, but a sublime landscape or a mythical scene.

But this time, her gaze couldn't be drawn to anything but this canvas. Yet, the room was full of engravings, period manufacturing machinery, and even costumes. But Megan's eyes remained fixed on those of this woman.

 The student approached the portrait, clutching her notebook and pencil to her chest. She didn't know why her legs trembled in front of the painting. It wasn't as if staring at someone was impolite. Not when the person was made of oil and pigments.

The painting was rather large, which was surprising for a portrait. It was as if the sheer size of the canvas was meant to make the person depicted appear majestic.

The woman in the painting was beautiful. Her dark hair cascaded over her bare shoulders. The peach-pink dress openly revealed the woman's neckline, showcasing a necklace of silver jewelry and clear stones. The crystals sparkled, illuminated by the strong sunlight that bathed the entire painting. On her wrist, a pale green bracelet, as if made of jade. Despite the portrait's light colors, Megan couldn't help but notice the darkness in the woman's eyes.

Her eyes were drooping, dark. Her pupils didn't sparkle, not even with the luster of her jewels. She gazed into the distance, as if waiting to see someone through the window from which the light streamed. The only thing that glittered in her eyes was a tear in the corner of her right eye.

"She must have been aristocrat, with clothes and jewelry like that. And her husband must have had the money to pay the painter. Why does she look so sad?" Megan wondered.

The young woman leaned forward to read the portrait's caption.

Portrait of Duchess Charlotte Cleveland, 1859. Wife of August Cleveland.

This portrait was painted after her eight-year journey around the world. The Duchess died three years later of tuberculosis, at the age of twenty-eight.

Artist unknown.

"Great. This woman is defined by only two things: her husband and death." 

Megan wasn’t about to give a lecture on feminism at the museum. That was probably the only information he had about this duchess.

Looking up, Megan jumped. For a moment, she swore she’d seen a drop of water fall right in front of her eyes. She craned her neck to the ceiling, wondering if she should alert the museum about potential water damage.

“Ah, Megan, there you are!”

Suddenly, Lara slapped Megan on the back. Startled, the student nearly dropped her notebook.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” said Sophia.

“I came by because the Ancient Greek section is closed,” Megan replied.

“That’s a shame, I would have loved to see the beautiful Apollos,” Daniela joked, before flexing her biceps.

“Disgusting! They’re old guys who lived millennia ago,” Manon sighed, forcing Dani to lower her arm.

“Hey, just because they’re old doesn’t mean we can’t check them out!”

“So, you’re into old guys? I thought you and Jonah were going to last,” Lara teased.

“I love Jonah, but as long as he doesn’t have the physique of those sculptures… I won’t mind going to the museum.”

“Ugh!” Manon gasped.

“I can understand, they’re rather cute, with their curly hair,” Lara finally agreed.

While her friends were judging the physiques of the Greek athletes, Megan was dying to put her headphones back on. She hated this kind of conversation. In fact, she hated it when her friends came with her to the museum.

It had always been a special time for her, alone with her music and a piece of art. She would spend an hour drawing and then leave. It was her routine, a way to unwind, which she did almost every week. The sound of pencil scraping paper was a familiar sound at the museum.

She didn't like listening to her friends discuss artwork like that, because it showed they hadn't understood what it represented.

"Who is this?" Sophia asked.

She leaned forward to read the label beneath the painting, her hands behind her back.

In fact, Sophia was perhaps the only exception. She had always been careful to respect all her friends' passions. So, while Megan loved museums and art, she was interested and tried to understand it.

"A Victorian duchess," Megan replied, approaching the portrait.

“Did you see all that jewelry? She was rich,” exclaimed Sophia, looking up at the painting.

“And yet, I’m not sure she’s happy.”

“You know what they say. Money can’t buy happiness. Just because your necklace sparkles doesn’t mean your heart does.”

With that, Sophia left to join Manon, Daniela, and Lara and told them to lower their voices. Megan watched her four friends leave before turning her attention back to the painting.

The woman was turned three-quarters of the way around. She wasn't showing her entire face. As if she were secretive, and no one deserved to see her face. Yet, she allowed visitors to see a tear, to see her greatest vulnerability.

"Why is she sad?" Megan wondered, watching the tear glisten in the corner of the woman's eye.

The student rested her sketchbook against her arm and began to sketch a few clumsy lines. She had never drawn portraits before. But it was always a good idea to try. She quickly shook her wrist, sliding her jade bracelet down her forearm. Even though she loved the bracelet, it was a nuisance when it came to drawing comfortably.

The pencil glided across the paper. The sound of graphite on paper filled the silent room. Quickly, the young woman squinted at her mediocre work.  Her chin wasn't aligned with her nose, her jaw was shaky, and one of her eyes was smaller than the other.

Megan sighed, annoyed. She shouldn't try to draw portraits anymore.

She removed the sheet of paper from her notebook, folded it in quarters, and slipped it into her back pocket.

~~~~

Leaving the museum, Megan closed her eyes. From here, she could feel the sea breeze. She took a deep breath. She hoped the salt would wash away her heavy mind and heart.

Yet, nothing.

The pain hadn't gone. It hadn't vanished in a gust of wind. Of course not.

She sighed before heading towards the park. Her friends were still at the museum. Megan was certain they hadn't noticed her absence. They must have been too busy fantasizing about a knight or a royal guard.

As soon as she stepped onto the grass, Megan remembered she was in a park. Children were shouting as they played ball haphazardly, dogs were chasing a record while their owners laughed loudly, and influencers were dancing with the music blasting from their Bluetooth speakers.

The young woman grabbed her headphones and put them on. She turned the music up loud enough to drown out all the noise.

Right now, Megan didn't want to listen to anyone. She loved the quiet of the museum and hated it when her friends broke it with obscene conversations. At one time, she would have laughed along with them at their vulgar jokes.

But she no longer had the heart for it.

The student found her tree again. It wasn't exactly hers, but she always settled down at its base after a hard day. Sitting against the trunk, Megan gazed at the sea in the distance.

The sea blue was flat, perfectly horizontal. The dark water blended with the deep blue of the early evening sky.

In those colors, Megan saw her future: dark, sad, depressing. Nothing bright, just a flat life, where she felt she might fall at every step.

She sighed, drawing her knees up to her chest. Perhaps the duchess had been gazing at the same horizon as her, back then.  Megan buried her face in her lap, her fingers nestling in her dark hair.

The breeze gently caressed her face, like her hand used to gently cup her cheek when she was little. She would give anything to feel that way again.

"Stop dreaming. She's gone," she told herself.

She lifted her head. The wind slapped her face. Tears welled in the corners of Megan's eyes. The student quickly rubbed them before swatting them onto the grass.

"Come on. You just have to accept it," she told herself.

Looking at the horizon, Megan repeated the phrase, "There are worse things." She shouldn't be so miserable.

To try and stop thinking about the gnawing pain, she closed her eyes. She thought of the Duchess.

Charlotte Cleveland.

Who was she really, besides being a wife and a dead woman?

It was the first time Megan had ever wondered so much about a painting. A portrait, no less. She could have looked it up online, but she doubted Wikipedia would have the answer to Charlotte's sadness.

She thought back to her dark eyes, her downturned lips, the tear in the corner of her eye.

"She must have been sad for a real reason," Megan told herself.

~~~~

Gently, a hand caressed Megan's cheek. Just the fingertips, barely enough to brush against it. The student frowned at the sensation.

"Who's creepy enough to touch me like that?" she wondered.

She smacked the hand away. A gasp of surprise escaped her lips. Megan slowly rubbed her eyes, letting them adjust to the light.

"괜찮아요 ? 여기서 뭐 하고 있어요 ?"

Hearing a language she didn't recognize, the student forced herself to open her eyes faster. Had tourists really just woken her?

Her eyelids fluttered open. A shard of sunlight blinded her. She groaned in pain before shielding the beam with her hand.

"The sun? How long have I been asleep?" Megan wondered.

It was then that she saw her.

A woman. The sun's shadows illuminated her silhouette, making her appear as a shadow. It was impossible to see her face or her clothes. Backlit by the sunlight, the woman leaned toward Megan.

"잘 지내시나요 ?" the woman asked.

From what Megan could hear, the woman was speaking Korean. Listening to Sophia sing K-pop so much, she had learned to recognize certain syllables and sounds. The student straightened up, sitting properly in the grass.

Running her hand through the grass, she was surprised by how green it was. The grass near the museum was scorched by the sun, a light brown rather than green.

“Sorry. But I don’t speak Korean,” Megan apologized, nervously scratching the back of her neck.

“영어 할 줄 아세요?” the woman said, her tone sounding like a question.

“Um… I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Megan crossed her arms to make an X, so the woman would know she didn’t understand.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw the woman's lower lip tremble.

"Is she crying? Maybe she's lost."

"You."

Megan tilted her head to the side when the woman pointed at her. Then, she looked up at the woman.

"Are... okay?" the woman asked.

Her English was broken. Her Korean accent was still very strong. It took her several seconds to say three words, and they weren't the most complicated ones. But Megan understood her. That was the most important thing.

"Yes, I'm fine," Megan said slowly so the woman could understand. "I just..."

The student clasped her hands together and pressed them to her cheek.

"Asleep under the tree."

The woman waited a few seconds before nodding.  Perhaps it was time for the translation to sink in.

Megan smiled politely at the woman before leaning against the tree trunk to pull herself up.

If it was daylight, it meant she had slept outside all day. Her father was going to kill her.

"I'll say I slept at Dani's. He'll believe it."

However, when her hand touched the bark, a strange sensation came over Megan. The trunk was taller than the tree under which Megan had fallen asleep. And the branches were much lower.

In fact, it wasn't even the same tree. The student was under a small, low-hanging weeping willow with arching branches.

"What the hell did I do last night?" Megan wondered.

She took her phone out of her pocket to see if she had received a message from her father or her friends. 

No notifications. Not even an announcement for a YouTube video or a Twitch stream.

Worse.

There was no signal.

How could there be a place without signal in a populated seaside town in the United States? It was impossible. Granted, Megan didn't live in the biggest city on the East Coast, but she wasn't exactly cut off from the world either.

"Excuse me, do you have signal?" she asked, turning to the woman.

Standing, the sun no longer blinded Megan, hidden by the leaves of the weeping willow. Now she could see the woman's face.

Her heart stopped beating for a few seconds before starting up again at a frantic pace. It pounded so hard against her chest that she could hear it in her temples.

The woman was beautiful. No. Stunning. Magnificent.

She couldn't agree on a word to describe the woman.

Her dark hair framed her face. It fell like a curtain, concealing her entire features.

Her eyes were narrow, slits in which Megan was certain she could read the secrets of the universe, so brightly did they shine. She longed to lean closer, to gaze into them and see all that the world hid from her.

Her lips were a soft pink. They were without a single blemish, without a single crease; it was as if the woman never spoke. Megan timidly tucked her lips into her mouth, she who tore at her skin every time she drew.

Her nose was small, straight, and round. Of all the noses Megan had ever seen, this was her favorite.

After being stunned by the natural beauty of the woman who had woken her, Megan's attention turned to something far more important, something she hadn't noticed before: the woman's clothes.

She was wearing a dark green dress with a plunging neckline. The fabric was covered in light green lace, the patterns of which were perfectly crocheted. A tight corset cinched the woman's waist. The dress fell to her ankles.

"She looks like a princess."

Megan swallowed hard. How could a woman dress like that in 2025? It couldn't be comfortable. Next to her, she looked rather pathetic in her black jeans and white hoodie.

"What?" the woman asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Actually, I have a better question. Where am I?"

"Where?" the woman repeated.

Megan felt like slapping her forehead.  The only person who could tell her where she was didn't speak a word of English.

"There must be people around."

Megan hurried out of the dome made of willow branches. Seeing her leave, the woman quickly stood up—as quickly as her dress would allow.

"Hey!" she called.

Megan grabbed a branch and pushed it aside as if to open a curtain. As she stepped out from under the willow, her breath caught in her throat.

Before her stood a vast, modern castle, its stone walls and dark tiles gleaming in the distance. Huge plumes of smoke billowed into the blue sky. Nature was greener, much greener than at home. Everything seemed too chic, yet more authentic. Like an old photograph of her ancestors lying around in the attic.

Megan wasn't at home. That was all she knew.

"Hey! Who are you?" 

Appearing out of nowhere, two men dressed in British guard uniforms pointed bayonets at Megan, ready to impale her. The young woman flinched before stepping back.

What was happening? Why were men threatening her?

“Have you seen the duchess?” asked the first man, bringing his spear close to the student.

“What? Who?” exclaimed Megan, backing away.

“She must have seen her,” concluded the second guard.

“Did you see her clothes? Where did she come from?”

Suddenly, the woman emerged from under the willow tree. She stepped between the guards’ weapons and Megan. Even though she didn’t know the woman in the dress, Megan hid behind her to shield herself from the guards’ spears.

“The Duchess,” the first guard exclaimed.

 “That’s what I thought. The woman saw the duchess,” said the second man.

He lowered his weapon to make sure he didn’t hurt the woman in the dress. He tried to get around her to grab Megan’s arm. But the woman pushed the student back and said, panicked,

"그녀는 나의 동반자입니다 !"

The guard sighed.

“Once again, you must speak English with us, Your Grace. We don’t understand your Chinese."

"이해하셔야 해요 ! 그녀는 저와 함께 있어요"

"It’s not Chinese, it’s Korean!” Megan exclaimed indignantly.

“Do you understand what she’s saying?” the first guard asked, surprised.

“Um… No. But it’s not Mandarin or Cantonese,” the student explained, moving slightly further behind the woman.

The two guards exchanged a dubious glance before turning their attention back to Megan.

“I don’t understand a word she’s saying,” the first one admitted. “And besides, how is it that an Asian woman speaks English?”

 “It doesn’t matter. She saw the duchess. The duke was clear. We have to eliminate anyone who sees the duchess,” the second man said impassively.

Megan’s heart stopped. Her blood ran cold in an instant. Driven solely by her survival instinct, she hid further behind the woman.

“They’re going to kill me! Who are these guys?” Megan exclaimed.

As the first guard tried to grab the student’s arm, the woman, who had been acting as a shield until now, slapped the guard’s hand. The man’s eyes widened before he stared at the woman. His lower lip trembled. His mouth opened and closed. She was searching for the right words.

“She… is with… me.”

The woman pointed at Megan, then at herself to emphasize her point.  The guards' eyes widened before they asked:

"Are you the Duchess's lady-in-waiting? Are you from her country?"

"That would make sense. They have the same skin color and the same eyes," said the second one.

Megan nodded nervously. She had to keep quiet. She had to ignore this terribly racist remark or end up with a bayonet in her stomach. She mustn't say another word and let the woman handle it all.

"With me," the woman repeated, pointing at herself.

She turned to Megan and gave her a shy smile. The student returned a grateful smile.

Megan had just narrowly avoided being stabbed by British guards in a brightly colored garden by a woman who barely spoke English and who happened to be a duchess.

"When did I fall?"

~~~~

The guards had escorted Megan and the duchess to a room, making sure no one was watching. One of them would venture into the corridors first to check the area, then allow the rest of the group to proceed. This was repeated at every corner of the castle.

Megan walked on without looking where she was going. The guards' uniforms looked authentic; this wasn't some prank her friends were playing on her. The building seemed period-appropriate—the tapestries, the furniture, everything was real. As they passed the kitchens, Megan glimpsed women preparing dinner. They were boiling vegetables in a large cauldron, beneath which a raging fire burned, kept alive by a little boy who was swatting away kindling. Seeing the clothes on the people in the kitchen, Megan had no doubt: she wasn't in 2025.

When the two women entered the room, the second guard grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut.  Footsteps echoed on the floor.  The guards were gone.

 Once far enough away, the Duchess smiled as she approached Megan.

 “당신도 저와 비슷하잖아요? 저를 이해해 주실 수 있을 거예요," she said.

 “Um…” Megan stuttered.

 "성함이 어떻게 되세요?  어느 지역 출신이세요?"

While throwing ten sentences in Korean at her, the duchess walked around Megan to observe her clothes and her face. 

To make herself understood, Megan made an X with her arms again.

"Not. Understand," she said slowly.

"Understand? Hmm..."

The duchess scratched her chin. Megan nervously scratched her arm. She didn't know what was worse: the guards trying to kill her or the duchess not speaking English.

If only she had listened to all the songs Sophia had recommended, Megan could have gotten out of this situation.

Suddenly, the duchess snapped her fingers. She went to the large, light-wood wardrobe and opened it. She rummaged through it for a few moments before taking out a large cylinder. She opened it and went to the bed, which was very high, as it came up to Megan's hips.

The woman slid a long roll of paper out of the cylinder before unfolding it on the bed. It was a world map.

An old world map.

Megan had never seen the world this way. She recognized the continents, of course. But the shapes of the countries were more blurred, almost haphazardly drawn.

But what surprised her most was that Europe was at the center of the world. Megan had never seen a map like it. She had always seen the United States at the center, which meant she had to adjust to these changes to recognize the countries.

The woman then tapped her finger on South Korea.

"Me. I'm from Joseon," the duchess said in broken English, after several seconds of thought.

Megan bit her lower lip. Joseon? Was that the name of South Korea back then?

The duchess stared at Megan, blinking slowly. The student swallowed, embarrassed by the woman's brown eyes fixed on her.  She finally pointed to the United States and said,

“I’m from there. The United States of America.”

The duchess looked up, bewildered. Her eyes scanned Megan from head to toe before she shook her head.

“No, you’re not from there,” she said.

“Um… Excuse me, but I do know where I’m from,” Megan protested, raising an eyebrow.

“You can’t. You’re from there.”

She then leaned over East Asia and slowly hovered her hand over the map. Megan understood what she meant.

Obviously, a person with an Asian mother and a white father, who came from the United States and ended up in the United Kingdom, couldn’t exist at that time.

Obviously.

“Wait, let me explain.” said Megan.

She placed her index finger on China, more specifically on the Guangdong region.

“My mother’s from there. China. My father, well…” she slowly slid her finger across the map to point to the United States. “He’s from here.”

Megan skipped the confusing part about her father’s Swedish ancestry, because she felt she was about to lose the duchess with the “world child” concept.

“You’re from… two countries?” the duchess asked, tilting her head to one side.

“Yes. My mother went to the United States when she was young and…”

At the word “went,” the duchess’s eyes widened. She gently took Megan’s arm and leaned closer.

“Your mother. Is she like me?” she asked.

“What do you mean, like you?” Megan repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"그들이 뭐라고 했더라…?"

The woman began to mutter words in Korean. Sometimes she paused and pronounced syllables with a British accent. With each attempt, her lower lip trembled. Then, she lowered her head with a long sigh.

"She didn't find the word she wanted."

"Anyway, my name is Megan. And you?" the student introduced herself.

The two women had been talking for several minutes over a world map and hadn't even exchanged names. All Megan knew about the woman was that she was a duchess.

"Megan?" the duchess repeated.

"Yes, Megan Skiendiel."

"You can't."

Megan sighed.  It was starting to feel like a lot of identity denial: she couldn't be American, she couldn't be called Megan… How difficult the nobility could be.

“Someone from here,” she said, pointing to the ground. “Her name is Megan. But she's not from here.”

The duchess pointed to East Asia on the map again.

“Asia. This continent is called Asia,” Megan informed them.

“Megan is not from Asia. You can't have that name.”

The student understood the argument. Someone with her appearance couldn't have that name back then. It was far too strange for the old-fashioned minds of the British.

“My Chinese name is Mei-yok. You can just call me that,” she offered.

“Mei-yok,” the duchess repeated, before nodding.  "예쁜."

"And you?"

Megan held out her hand to the duchess so she could tell her name. The woman looked at the hand before smiling and saying,

"Yoonchae."

~~~~

Megan had many questions about this situation.

She had long ago crossed the question, "Am I dreaming?" off her list. Firstly, because no one would dream of being threatened by British guards and finding themselves stuck with a duchess who didn't speak the same language.

But also because she had pinched herself several times and had deliberately tried to stub her toe on a piece of furniture to cause enough pain to wake her up. In the end, she had only succeeded in hurting herself for nothing, because she hadn't woken up.

She was truly in another era, far removed from the 21st century. From what she could gather—the lack of cell service, the world map, the other name for South Korea, the clothing, the state of nature, and the distant industries—she was somewhere around the beginning of the 19th century.  In moments like these, she was grateful she'd taken her art history classes to at least have some basic knowledge of that century. She never would have reached this conclusion if she hadn't listened to Ms. Coreil's lectures.

However, these meager answers left room for a host of questions.Why had she landed in the 19th century? And in the United Kingdom, no less? Why her? Why was she in this particular field? How could she possibly get back home?

Duchess Yoonchae hadn't given Megan time to dwell on these questions.

Suddenly, disguising the strange Megan as the perfect Mei-yok servant became a priority. Megan was no longer to be an American student from 2025; she was to be Duchess Yoonchae's attendant, straight from South Korea.

This whole story could be believable to the guards.  After all, they couldn't tell the difference between a woman of Chinese and a Korean descent, so it was understandable. Probably because relations between East Asian countries and Europe were very rare at that time.

But, while the duchess was giving her new servant clothes, Megan wondered: why wasn't Yoonchae more worried? She had found a girl under a tree, wearing clothes that didn't exist at that time, speaking a completely different kind of English, who seemed disoriented, and she wasn't asking any more questions.

"I don't understand what's going on here," Megan thought.

Suddenly, the duchess turned around and pressed a light blue dress against Megan's body to check if it clung to her face.

"이 드레스 정말 예쁘네요. 하지만 저보다는 당신에게 더 잘 어울려요," she muttered, looking down the sleeve of the dress.

"That one's nice," Megan sighed.

"제가 더 마음에 드는 걸 찾아드릴 수 있을 것 같아요. 하지만 이건 그냥 가지세요."

She placed the blue dress in the student's arms, who sighed. She felt as if she were accompanying Lara on a shopping trip. While Megan found her clothes quickly—dark colors and no patterns—and paid in seconds, Lara spent hours in the aisles, tossing any garment that caught her eye into Megan's arms, only for her to then serve as a clothes hanger in the fitting rooms.

"Give me all the ones you don't want to wear, that'll do," Megan said, seeing that Yoonchae was lingering in front of the wardrobe.

"What?" asked the duchess.

"Give me the ugliest ones."

Yoonchae stared at Megan, perplexed. She didn't understand what she was saying. The student wondered how she could possibly explain what she was saying so simply.

"I can mime, but..."

"This one. Do you like it?" 

Megan pulled the hem of a dark blue dress from the depths of the ocean. Then, she gave Yoonchae a thumbs-up, asking for her opinion.

The duchess examined the dress before shaking her head from side to side.

"Okay, so I'll take it. This one?"

As she continued to search for a dress, Megan realized the fashion of the Victorian era. Frills everywhere, lace on all the sleeves, layers and layers of fabric to create volume from the hips down…

"I have a feeling I'm going to miss my jeans and T-shirt," she thought.

Then, she pulled out a dress. At first, Megan thought it was pink, but as she got closer, she saw that it was also green and purple. There were some patterns that had been attempted to be printed on it. If Megan wasn't mistaken, they were birds… or maybe dogs?  She laughed when she saw the hideous dress.

She pulled the dress out of the closet and laughed:

"You're wearing that? It's ugly!"

Yoonchae blinked, her expression neutral. She probably hadn't understood what she'd just said. Megan then pointed at the dress and pretended to vomit.

“Ugly, it’s ugly,” Megan repeated.

“이 드레스 정말 끔찍해! Ugly!” the duchess confirmed.

Faced with Megan’s mime, Yoonchae laughed.

The laughter resonated in Megan’s ears. It was so beautiful, so pure. Two bursts, discreet, but clear. The smile on Yoonchae’s face revealed a completely different side of her. She was no longer a duchess; she was a teenager.

A question took root in Megan’s mind. She didn’t even know how old Yoonchae was. She knew she was a duchess. But despite her beautiful clothes and jewelry, Megan saw a child behind the title.

She laughed softly before putting the dress back in the closet, making it clear to the duchess that she wouldn’t be wearing it.  As Megan scrolled through the clothes, she felt silk against her fingers. But not just any silk. Asian silk. She gently grasped the fabric and pulled the dress open.

It wasn't a British dress. It was a traditional outfit. A hanbok, if Megan remembered correctly what Sophia had told her. The fabric was white, embroidered with pink flowers, followed by a long, thick pink robe. Suddenly, Yoonchae leaned toward Megan. Her eyes were trembling.

"No. It's mine," she said, placing her hand on Megan's wrist.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to take it, I just wanted to look," Megan apologized, stepping back.

She swallowed. She hadn't thought that simply touching the hanbok would cause the duchess to panic. It was probably one of the only things she had managed to bring back from Korea.

When Megan observed the duchess's room, everything was… so European. Wallpaper, portraits of white men in noble attire, but… no decorations that evoked South Korea. Megan didn't know how Koreans decorated their homes, but there was nothing in this room that reminded her of the country.

Yoonchae carefully put the hanbok away in the wardrobe and closed the doors. Her eyes drifted to Megan's arms, where she now had a large number of dresses.

“이제 충분히 들으신 것 같네요” the duchess concluded.

“That's a lot of dresses,” Megan said, counting the dresses in her arms.

“지금 당장 시도해봐야 해요."

As she said this, Yoonchae clapped her hands, excitement on her face. The student was worried about experiencing the same makeover sessions as with Daniela, but in Victorian times.

The duchess approached Megan and took the dresses from her hands.

“원하는 걸로 골라 써 보세요. 나머지는 침대 위에 놓을게요.”

“Um… I didn’t understand,” Megan admitted.

The duchess went to the bed. She laid all the dresses out before spreading them out. Her eyes examined each one before she made her choice. She picked up the light blue dress and handed it to Megan.

“이것부터 먼저 시도해 보세요,” she said.

“Okay, I’ll wear that one,” Megan agreed.

As she reached for the dress Yoonchae was holding out to her, the duchess’s eyes caught Megan’s jade bracelet. She gently took the student’s wrist between her fingers and pulled it towards her. Megan jumped before looking at Yoonchae.

"정말 아름다운 팔찌네요"

“It’s my mother’s bracelet. She gave it to me,” Megan explained.

"하지만 드레스와 어울리지 않을 거예요. 벗는 게 좋겠어요."

Megan tilted her head to the side to show the duchess that she hadn’t understood what she had just said. Yoonchae’s fingers encircled the bracelet and pulled it off her wrist.

Feeling the jade slide against her skin, Megan immediately withdrew her hand. There was no way she was going to lose that bracelet. It was her connection to her culture, her country, and her mother. She had cared for it since she was fourteen, and she refused to let anyone take it. Especially not 19th-century British people.  Without this bracelet, Megan wouldn't be Megan Mei-yok Skiendiel anymore; she'd just be an ordinary girl who knew nothing of her origins.

"No. I'm not taking this bracelet off," she said, shaking her head.

"Sorry, I... sorry. I'm sorry," Yoonchae apologized timidly in English.

Megan shook her head gently to show that it wasn't a big deal. She put her bracelet back on properly and picked up the blue dress.

"I'll try on the dress."

~~~~

Megan had arrived at the Cleveland estate two days ago.

The two guards who followed Yoonchae everywhere kept a close eye on her. And Megan hated it, because she accompanied the duchess absolutely everywhere. Since she was “officially” her attendant from South Korea, she had to be with her constantly.

At mealtimes, Megan and Yoonchae ate alone, just the two of them. From what she understood, the duke was traveling and wouldn't be at the castle for a long time.

Usually, the duchess dined alone, with the two guards in the dining room, waiting for her to finish. But now, there was Megan. Despite being Yoonchae's attendant, she was allowed to have lunch with her. Probably because Yoonchae had had to use her title of duchess to make herself heard.  It was sometimes strange, eating in complete silence, broken only by the clinking of cutlery on china.

Megan wondered if she was eating properly, if she was using the right cutlery, or even if she was sitting correctly. Yoonchae had never said anything about her posture. That was a good sign, wasn't it?

That day, Megan was walking alone through the corridors.

The Duchess liked to sleep in. She woke up around noon, while Megan was still suffering from jet lag. She stayed awake at night, trying to convince herself to close her eyes and fall asleep. But her body was just as disoriented as she was and couldn't rest unless it was at her usual time. So, Megan would find herself dozing in the middle of the afternoon, when she accompanied Yoonchae in the gardens.

As they strolled, Megan observed the portraits hanging on the wall.  They were large paintings, depicting all the members of the Cleveland family. They were all men, all with mustaches. The only thing that distinguished them was the length of their beards or mustaches. But there wasn't a single portrait of a woman.

"Perhaps painters of that era didn't know how to paint women?" Megan surmised ironically, rolling her eyes.

She wasn't even going to try to discuss the sexism of that time. It would be a waste of time, especially if no woman was willing to listen.

As she continued to analyze the portraits, lost in her thoughts, Megan felt a gaze upon her. She turned her head.

At the end of the hall, a housewife was watching her, her body hidden by the wall. She didn't take her eyes off the student. Megan turned and looked behind her, just to be sure it was really her the housewife was staring at.

When she turned around, the woman had reached her level. She was so close that Megan jumped.

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed, taking a step back.

“Are you the Duchess?” the housekeeper asked.

Megan’s eyes widened at the question. She couldn’t believe she was being asked this. How could the people who ran this castle not know their Duchess?

“No. I’m her maid, Mei-yok,” Megan introduced herself.

“I didn’t know she brought someone from Joseon with her.”

Megan’s eyelid twitched slightly. She hated having to pretend to be Korean when she was Chinese-American. But she had to make sacrifices to hide and not seem even stranger.

“You’ve never seen the Duchess?” Megan asked.

“No, no one is allowed to see her. That’s why I’m asking. I saw an Asian woman; I thought it was you,” the housewife replied.

The student tilted her head to the side. No one had ever seen the duchess except the guards? That explained their reaction; they were ready to kill Megan.

“Hey! Stop talking to her immediately!”

A guard appeared in the corridor and approached the housewife with a menacing step. The woman backed away, her feet trembling.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she apologized.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t the duchess, otherwise I would have had to kill you! Now go!”

At the guard’s shouts, the housewife obeyed. She ran off and disappeared around the corner of a corridor. 

The guard turned to Megan and asked gravely,

"What are you doing here?"

"The Duchess is asleep, but I've been awake for hours. So, I wanted to take a walk around the castle," the student replied.

"You must stay with the Duchess. All the time."

"Not when she's sleeping, though. She's entitled to privacy."

The guard raised an eyebrow before pointing down the corridor leading to the staff quarters.

"Go back to your room. Immediately. And don't leave unless the Duchess asks you to. No one is to see you," he ordered.

Megan rolled her eyes before obeying. She was going to be bored in her room; what on earth was she going to do? She didn't want to waste her phone battery, so she left it off.  Now, she could no longer just linger on social media in bed.

So, on her way to her room, she made a quick detour to the library. Just enough to grab a random book to kill time.

She returned to her room, nonchalantly, the book tucked behind her back.

"It's annoying, though. I can't wander freely around the castle," she thought, placing the book on her nightstand.

Megan realized many things. Every time the duchess wanted to go out into the gardens, the guards would leave first. Then, one of them would return several minutes later, allowing Yoonchae to leave her room. That was why no one had ever seen the duchess and why this housekeeper was so curious to see Megan. However, the penalty for seeing the duchess was death…

"I'm lucky Yoonchae covered for me. I could have died.”

Megan’s eyes fell on the cover of the book she had picked up.

Hamlet.

Megan wasn’t much of a reader. With her dyslexia, even the simplest novel she had to read at school was a real obstacle. She could read, but it took her a lot of time and concentration.

Yet, she picked up the book and opened it. Her fingers gently traced the first page. She didn’t know how else to occupy herself.

~~~~

Megan missed the music. She realized it every time she went to the gardens with Yoonchae.

The duchess didn't seem bothered by the sounds of nature. The wind rustling through the leaves, the ducks in the pond, the distant hum of factories… She simply closed her eyes and listened. Megan had tried to do the same. But she found herself bored after a few minutes. Except that Yoonchae could stay like that for hours.

So, this time, as they went to the gardens again, Megan had planned ahead. She had brought sheets of paper and a pencil. After searching through the castle's many rooms, she had found some. Of course, she had asked Yoonchae's permission to be sure she could take them.

Megan was lucky that her passion was drawing, an art that has existed for millennia.  If someone passionate about video games or movies found themselves in her situation, how would they cope?

As they walked toward the Duchess's favorite bench, Megan observed the landscape, twirling her pencil between her fingers. All her mind and senses were focused on capturing the view as accurately as possible. She wanted to perfectly represent the sunlight reflecting off the pond; every blade of grass had to be identical.

When Yoonchae sat down on the bench by the pond, some ducks flew away. She laughed.

"불쌍한 오리들! 매번 무서워하네요."

She lifted her head and let the sun caress her skin, her eyes closed. Megan, meanwhile, settled down and threw herself at her paper. She carefully sketched the first lines, defining each plane.

The ducks dove into the pond, quacking. One of them splashed several ducklings, who began to squabble. The wind blew gently, barely stronger than a breeze.

Megan ran a hand through her hair to lean closer to her paper and concentrate. She had started by drawing the pond. Her lines were bold enough to show the presence of water, but light enough to convey its transparency. As the ducklings swam past her, making movements in the water, Megan drew the pebbles at the bottom.

Yet, as the wrist movements continued, the student frowned.  Everything she had drawn seemed… bad. Incoherent. Everything was shaky, weak, disproportionate.

“당신이 그린 그림은 정말 아름다워요." Yoonchae said, leaning his head over Megan's paper.

The student looked up from her paper to get a better view. For the moment, only the pond was properly drawn. She had vaguely sketched the trees on the estate and the grass in front of them, just to frame her drawing.

Megan looked at the duchess.

"What did you say?" she asked.

Yoonchae's finger touched the paper cautiously.

"당신의 그림."

"Ah, my drawing. Do you like it?"

"Your drawing," the duchess repeated. "It's good."

Megan smiled at Yoonchae before looking back at her drawing.

"I like to draw," she said.

"당신은 재능이 있어요," the duchess replied with a smile.

"I don't know what that means, but I'll take it as a compliment."

Yoonchae gave a shy smile, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. She hadn't understood what Megan had said, but she smiled anyway.

"I've loved drawing since I was little. I even studied it. But since... I find it a little harder now," she explained, her tone more somber.

The duchess stopped smiling.  Megan glanced discreetly at Yoonchae.

"I don't even know why I'm telling her all this. She doesn't even understand what I'm saying," she thought to herself.

Yet, she saw the duchess's lip tremble. She was about to speak.

"Mei-yok. I like your drawing," she said after a few seconds of thought.

Megan's heart swelled. She had heard that phrase a million times. Since she was a little girl, her mother had said it every time she held a pencil. Her friends, too, considered even the smallest doodle in the margin a work of art. But Megan had never taken those comments as a compliment. These people said it because they liked Megan. Not because they liked drawing.

But this time, the remark seemed sincere. Megan truly believed it.

"Thank you. That's kind."

~~~~

In the evenings, Megan was lucky enough to be able to stay alone.

After dinner, Yoonchae would go to her room and not come out again until the next day. Megan wondered what she was doing. They started their evening meal early and finished it quickly because they hardly spoke. Then, the duchess would go to bed while the sun was still visible behind the trees.

The light had long since disappeared. The moon had replaced the sun. Yet, a glimmer shone in a room. Megan was reading Hamlet, sitting in bed. She had heard about the play in high school, but she had never read it. She had asked Manon to give her a summary of the book, but she couldn't even remember it. So, it was as if she were rediscovering the book.

She was still on Act One. Despite all her efforts, reading even a single page was difficult. And it wasn't getting any easier with time. But Megan forced herself.  She couldn't do anything else, anyway. She didn't like drawing in the dark, and even less so by candlelight. And falling asleep at ten o'clock at night was out of the question.

"I don't understand a word Horatio is saying. What's that word? 'Impetuality'?"

Her finger slid slowly under each word, so Megan wouldn't lose her place in her reading. The literature of that era was complicated, the vocabulary technical, and the characters didn't use words in the usual order. It was as if Megan were discovering a different kind of English.

She was lucky to understand what the guards were saying.

Knock knock.

There was a knock at the door. Megan looked up from her book.

"If it's one of those two idiotic guards, I'm going to get angry."

"Yes?" she asked, sitting up properly in bed.

The door opened. The floorboards creaked.

The duchess slipped quietly into Megan's room.

"Your Highness. Are you all right?" the student asked anxiously, closing her book.

"Good evening, Mei-yok," Yoonchae said softly.

She closed the door behind her and stood outside, not daring to enter the room.

"Don't stand there. Wait."

Megan got out of bed and went to her desk. Her body trembled in the cool air. She would have preferred to stay under her duvet.

She pulled out her desk chair and turned it toward the duchess.

“Sit down,” Megan invited.

"매우 감사합니다."

Yoonchae approached slowly and sat down in the chair. She wasn't wearing her grand gown with its intricate gold stitching and embroidery. Instead, she wore a simple nightgown. Her hair was loose, falling along her face and over her shoulders. It was a change from her usual updo or curly pigtails.

She looked like a young woman, probably about Megan's age.

When Megan approached the duchess, she noticed the fatigue on her face. She saw her red eyes and the marks on her cheeks. She had been crying.

The student knelt beside Yoonchae, like an older sister comforting her younger sibling.

"Are you alright?" Megan asked softly.

"피곤할 뿐이에요" Yoonchae replied, rubbing her eye.

 “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

“Tired,” the duchess mumbled then in timid English.

“It’s late. It’s normal that you’re tired.”

“나는 내 나라가 그립다. 나는 가족이 그립다.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Yoonchae pursed her lips, nodding slowly. Megan felt a pang in her heart. At that precise moment, she blamed herself for not understanding Korean. She didn’t know how to reassure the teenager who was crying beside her.

The duchess stared at the floor, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Her lips trembled. Not as if she were trying to speak English.  As if she were holding back tears.

Megan had always had a daughter who loved physical contact. Never, ever, did she refuse a hug from her friends. She adored it when Sophia and Daniela threw themselves into her arms. She loved walking down the street arm in arm with Lara. She loved lounging on Manon's sofa with Manon's head on her stomach. But lately, she had lost this need for contact. On the contrary, she avoided it. She didn't impose it on anyone and never sought to feel it on her.

Yet, facing the duchess, Megan raised her hand for the first time and placed it on Yoonchae's. Her thumb slowly caressed the back of her hand.

"It's going to be okay," she said softly.

The duchess shivered at the touch. Megan hoped it wouldn't put her off.  She knew that Koreans weren't very tactile, even with the smallest gestures. Yet, Yoonchae didn't withdraw her hand. She looked at her companion, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Let it all out. It will do you good," said Megan without letting go of the Duchess's fingers.

"그들이 너무 보고 싶어요.  여동생을 다시 보고 싶어요. 어머니도 다시 보고 싶어요," Yoonchae mumbled as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I know. I know."

"고양이가 보고 싶어요. 모든 게 다 그리워요. 집에 가고 싶어요…"

Megan didn't understand the reason for her sorrow. She didn't understand a single word the duchess was saying. But not for a single moment did she let go of her hand.

She wouldn't leave this girl, alone, far from home, crying in the dark.

~~~~

“Mei-yok.”

Megan turned around when she heard her mother call her name. She was waiting in the doorway, standing straight, her hands clasped.

The student couldn't see her mother's face. She was drawing in the dark, and the light from the hallway created a backlighting effect. She took off her headphones and turned off the Bluetooth on her phone.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Megan asked.

Her mother came closer. She placed her hands on her daughter's cheeks and kissed her forehead tenderly. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, before looking at her.

“Are you okay?” she repeated.

Her mother had never done this before. She always let Megan draw in peace and never disturbed her when she was concentrating. She sat down on the bed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs. The student looked at her mother, her heart heavy.  With each heartbeat, she felt as if it were trying to pierce her ribcage. Each blow hurt.

Megan saw pain on her mother's face. Suffering, sadness, and… a hint of regret.

“I talked to your father. I… I need to be alone for a while. You know?”

Megan swallowed hard. For the past few years, her parents had been shouting at each other every night. They only spoke to each other about trivialities and polite formalities. Megan knew this. But sometimes, when she saw them in a good mood, when she saw her father kiss her mother before leaving for work, she believed that love had returned between them.

“Yes,” Megan murmured, placing her pencil on her desk.

“And I think… I’m going back to China. To be in a place I know. A place I’ve always known.”

The student jumped up from her chair.  She bumped into the desk.

"What? But for how long?"

Her mother looked away. She nervously scratched the back of her neck, just like Megan did when she didn't want to tell the truth.

"Mom. You'll come back, right?"

The question was a plea. Megan would have been ready to get down on her knees and beg her mother to stay with her. But she kept her eyes fixed on the carpet, avoiding her daughter's gaze. The student's eyes began to tremble and burn.

"The suitcases are already packed. I'm leaving tonight. Your father is taking me to the airport," her mother explained calmly.

"Mom, when are you coming back? In a week or two?" Megan asked, her voice trembling.

"I'm going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa. You can always call me, if you want."

"That's not what I'm asking! You'll come back, right?" 

Her mother stood up and headed for the door. Without looking back, she slipped into the hallway.

And it was at that moment that Megan understood.

She was abandoning her.

“Mom, wait,” the student ordered, rushing down the hallway.

“Sylvia, are you ready?” her father called from downstairs.

“You can’t do this to me!”

As she tried to follow her mother, Megan’s wrist struck the railing. She felt her jade bracelet vibrate. Suddenly, she grabbed her wrist and gently took the bracelet between her fingers to make sure it wasn’t cracked. Tears streamed down her cheeks when she saw the first jade dragon with a scratch near its eyes. But the sound of suitcases brought her back to reality.

“Mom, wait… Please…” Megan begged, running down the stairs.

“Mei-yok.”

Her mother turned and took her daughter in her arms. Despite the anger burning in her lungs, Megan clung to her mother’s jacket. Every part of her body, every tear on her cheek, begged her to stay.

“‹ I love you with all my heart, you know that, Mei-yok? ›” her mother asked in Cantonese, her voice trembling.

~~~~

“Are you okay?”

Megan clutched her chest, her heart pounding. She could feel herself sweating profusely, cold drops trickling down her spine. To allow herself a little more air, she nervously tugged at her corset. She needed space, needed to take a deep breath to calm herself.

But the garment was solid, rigid, impossible to stretch.

“Damn…” Megan moaned.

Fingers then traced the knots of her corset. Slowly, they untied it, and Megan was able to breathe deeply. As she caught her breath, she tried to regain her composure.

She was under the branches of the weeping willow. Again. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, glimmers of light sparkling like stars. The grass beneath Megan’s fingers was soft, supple.  Behind her, the duchess kept her hands on the corset's lacing, waiting for a reaction to see if she should remove it completely.

"Are you all right?" Yoonchae repeated, leaning forward.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine," Megan muttered, trying to reassure herself as well.

"악몽을 꾼 셨군요."

"I just need two seconds."

She nervously tugged at her corset to loosen it as much as possible. Yoonchae understood this and completely untied the garment's knot to help Megan breathe properly.

The student placed her hands in the grass for support and to catch her breath. She hadn't expected to relive this scene. It had been months since she'd thought about it. In fact, she tried to stop thinking about it, but it rarely worked. The sharp pain associated with that memory was always lurking in the back of her mind, all the time.

Whenever she talked with Daniela, Manon, Sophia, and Lara, no matter the topic, there was always a small, intrusive thought that seeped into her heart and poisoned it. Megan lived with a bleeding heart every day and couldn't find a balm that could stop the hemorrhage. The only comfort she had found to lessen the pain was the museum.  A quiet place, where even her darkest thoughts were silenced so as not to disturb the works of art.

Gently, Yoonchae ran his hand down Megan's back. She shivered at the feel of his hand on her bare back.

“기분이 좀 나아지셨나요 ?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know what you’re saying,” the student said, turning to the duchess.

“Do you feel best?” Yoonchae asked, her lip trembling.

“Yes… I’m better. But we say, ‘Do you feel better?’”

“Do you feel better?”

Megan smiled at the way Yoonchae had just repeated the phrase. She pulled her corset up over her chest with a sigh.

“I’m sorry…” she apologized, blushing with embarrassment.

“Don’t say sorry,” the duchess replied, gently tugging Megan’s corset to retie the knot.

“A duchess shouldn’t do that, normally.”  

Yoonchae didn’t reply. Was she not replying because she hadn’t understood, or because she didn’t want to continue this debate? Megan didn’t know.

As the duchess carefully tightened her maid’s corset, a duck flew under the branches of the weeping willow and looked at the two women.

Megan stared at it, one hand resting on her chest. She made a few weak movements to shoo it away, but it quacked in response, as if to say it wasn’t going anywhere.

“코르셋을 그렇게 꽉 조이면 제대로 숨을 쉴 수 있나요 ?” the duchess asked.

As if to illustrate her point, she gently tugged on the lace. Startled, Megan sat up. 

"That'll be fine. Thank you very much," she said.

Yoonchae tied the knot firmly and then sat down next to her attendant. The student rubbed her face, still trying to compose herself.

"이 오리는 정말 너무 귀여워요," she said, looking straight ahead.

"What?" Megan asked, tilting her head to the side.

The duchess pointed at the duck.

“오리,” she said, emphasizing each syllable.

“Ah, the duck,” Megan concluded, nodding her head.

“Fuck,” Yoonchae repeated.

Hearing the insult from the duchess's mouth, Megan couldn't help but burst out laughing. The duck, hearing the sudden laughter, ran toward the pond. Yoonchae watched her attendant laugh, her cheeks flushed.

“What?” she asked with a shy smile.

“Ha ha! It’s a duck, not a 'Fuck'!” Megan replied, laughing.

“제가 그렇게 말했잖아요 ! Fuck !"

“No, no! Duck!”

The student wiped away the tear of laughter that was running down her cheek before pointing to her lips and repeating the word “Duck.”

“Duck,” Yoonchae finally said.

“That’s it. Duck. Fuck is another word. Not a very nice word coming from a duchess,” Megan explained.

“뭐가 그렇게 웃긴지 모르겠어요.”

The student smiled before looking ahead at where the duck had gone.  She could still feel her orange feet under the branches of the weeping willow.

"It's still there," Megan said, pointing to the hidden duck.

"귀엽긴 한데, 멍청해. 자기가 숨어있다고 생각하잖아."

Even though she hadn't understood a single word Yoonchae had said, the student nodded, her spirits light.

~~~~

It was raining at the Cleveland estate. And it had been for several days. This didn't bother Megan. She could always draw and read in her room. But she could see that the duchess was having trouble staying inside.

The two guards asked Megan and Yoonchae to stay in the library. Indeed, because of the rainy days, the common areas like the drawing rooms were occupied by the other residents of the castle: the staff, the guests, the guards… There was too much chance that the duchess would be seen. So, they had invented a lie, that there was flooding in the library and that it was off-limits.

Megan loved the library. There were long tables where she could draw. And when drawing bored her, she could pick up her copy of Hamlet and continue reading.

But Yoonchae couldn't stay still.  Locked in the library, she paced back and forth, her eyes constantly fixed on the window. She watched the rain pour down on the gardens, the wind twisting the trees, the branches of the weeping willow flying in the storm.

Sometimes she wandered among the library shelves. But she never picked up a book.

After three days of watching the duchess constantly moving in her peripheral vision, Megan looked up from her drawing (she was still sketching the pond landscape) and said,

"Take a book and sit down."

Yoonchae turned and raised an eyebrow at Megan. The next girl grabbed her copy of Hamlet and held it up, shaking her hand slightly. But the duchess shook her head.

"나는 이 알파벳을 어떻게 읽는지 몰라요."

"What a shame TikTok doesn’t exist yet, it would have kept you stimulated all day,” Megan said, laughing, a bit of a joke to herself.

“TikTok?” Yoonchae repeated.

“Nothing. It was a joke.”

Megan put down her book and went back to her drawing. She was amused by the duchess who couldn’t find anything to occupy herself, but Megan wasn’t any better. She couldn’t concentrate on her drawing for more than twenty minutes. Every time, she saw a new flaw. A mistake. Every time that happened, she wanted to tear up her paper, or cross everything out in one go.

But she managed to be reasonable. She put down her pencil and started reading, just trying not to unleash all her anger on her drawing.

Yoonchae stood by the window next to Megan. She watched the rain crashing onto the pond, creating ripples in the water.

"오리들은 어떨지 궁금하네요. 흠뻑 젖었을 거예요."

“Huh?” Megan asked, looking up from her drawing.

“Ducks,” the duchess replied, pointing at the rain.

The student looked out the window. There were no ducks in the pond. Her eyes shifted to Yoonchae. She was watching the rain, nervously biting her fingernail, as if she were worried about the ducks.

“You know, duck feathers are waterproof. They don’t mind the rain. They won’t get cold,” Megan explained with a wry smile.

“What?” Yoonchae asked.

The student pulled out the chair next to her and invited the duchess to sit down. At the same time, she took a piece of paper and placed it between herself and Yoonchae.

She began to draw a duck. Nothing very precise or realistic. Just a bird, as if it were from a comic strip.

“That’s the duck,” Megan said, pointing at the bird with the tip of her pencil.

“Duck,” Yoonchae repeated, nodding.

“And that’s the rain.”

Megan drew small lines to mimic the rain. When they reached the duck, the raindrops outlined the drawing, as if it weren’t being touched.

“The rain doesn’t touch the duck. Because the feathers…”

Quickly, she scribbled a small feather.

“They’re waterproof,” Megan concluded.

“The rain… does not touch ducks,” Yoonchae said hesitantly.

She bit her lower lip, looking at Megan, implicitly asking her to correct her English.

“That’s it. You could say that. The rain doesn’t touch ducks because they’re waterproof.”

"불투과성" Yoonchae said, gently tapping her forehead, as if she'd just realized something.

"So the ducks won't get sick."

Megan drew a small heart next to her duck, as if to show it was protected.

"I like your duck drawing," the duchess said, smiling.

"Thank you. Can you draw?"

"Me?"

Megan nodded before handing her pencil to Yoonchae. She took the pencil and pulled the sheet of paper towards her. The student leaned against the table and watched the duchess draw.

She was focused on her drawing, as if calculating each stroke. Leaning over the paper, she slightly stuck out her tongue, which made Megan smile.

"There."

After several minutes, Yoonchae straightened up, proudly putting down the pencil. She turned the paper towards Megan.

A small cat was drawn next to the duck.  The Duchess had even colored it in, giving it gray fur with darker features on its face.

"A cat! It's so cute!" exclaimed Megan.

“Mine. 내 고양이,” Yoonchae clarified.

“Is that your cat? He’s adorable. What’s his name?”

“오레오.”

Hearing the syllables, Megan looked up. Was the Duchess’s cat named Oreo? Like the cookie brand?

“Maybe Oreo is a Korean brand. I’ll look it up when I have Wi-Fi,” the student thought, smiling.

“Do you like cats?” Yoonchae asked, pointing at the drawing.

“Um… Yes. But I’m allergic,” Megan admitted, smiling shyly.

“Allergic?”

She wondered how to explain the word “allergy.” She pointed to Oreo with the tip of her pencil and said,

“Cats. They make me sneeze.” 

Then, to illustrate her point, Megan pretended to sneeze. Yoonchae’s eyes widened. She understood.

"고양이 털 알레르기가 있으신 군요! 안타깝네요, 고양이들은 정말 귀여운데."

“But I like dogs,” the student added, doodling a dog next to the cat.

“We have a dog... Hunting dog,” Yoonchae said.

“A hunting dog? Really?”

“Yes. Brutus.”

“Charming name for a dog.”

Megan hadn’t seen a dog before. Then again, she’d never participated in a single hunt at the estate. Perhaps the dog was in a wing of the castle she hadn’t yet visited. Yoonchae gently took the pencil from Megan’s fingers and drew several lines. Leaning closer, the student realized it wasn’t a drawing, but a word in Korean.

“윤채,” the duchess explained. “My name.”

“Is that how it’s spelled? It’s pretty.”

Yoonchae handed the pencil back to Megan. The student looked up at the duchess. She glanced at her name, then at the next one.

Megan pulled the sheet of paper toward her and wrote her name in the Latin alphabet.

“Mei-yok. That’s how it’s spelled,” she said, looking at Yoonchae.

“Mei-yok,” the duchess repeated.

She placed her finger under each letter and repeated the name, prolonging each syllable. Megan understood then. Yoonchae was trying to learn to read the Latin alphabet.

“Wait. I’ll write the alphabet for you. We’ll start with that,” she said, taking a new sheet of paper.

“Alphabet,” the duchess repeated.

“Yes, wait.” 

As neatly as possible (and heaven knew how badly she wrote), Megan wrote each letter of the alphabet. Once all 26 letters were written, she said,

"If I say your name, Yoonchae, I'll write it like this."

Megan then wrote the name Yoonchae on the sheet of paper. The Duchess leaned over her name. She observed it as if discovering a new facet of herself. Then, she took the other sheet of paper and compared her name in the Korean alphabet to the one in the Latin alphabet.

“훨씬 더 오래 걸립니다,” she said.

“And a duck is spelled like this.”

Above the drawing, Megan wrote the word “duck,” carefully separating each letter so it was legible.

For hours, the two women exchanged words. The student drew pictures of animals or objects before writing the name above them. Yoonchae repeated each word Megan said to her. Sometimes, she let her read the word on her own. Most of the time, she made mistakes. She mixed up the letters or didn’t pronounce it correctly.

But Megan didn’t lose patience. She let the duchess try, make mistakes, complain, and try again.

The word Yoonchae struggled with the most was “herd.” She couldn’t find the correct pronunciation, despite Megan’s example. The duchess was a perfectionist. She would get annoyed every time she realized she wasn't pronouncing a word correctly, and Megan would have to tell her it wasn't a big deal.

Sometimes, Yoonchae would laugh to herself. From what the student could tell, the words she was laughing at sounded like Korean. "Not pretty" words, if she quoted the duchess.

"Hm... Ladies?"

Megan and Yoonchae turned around. One of the two guards was standing behind them. He held several sheets of paper, completely covered in scribbles, drawings, crossed-out words, and Korean and English writing.

Megan realized they had used a lot of paper, so much so that some had fallen to the floor.

"Sorry to bother you, but dinner is served," he announced.

"Damn, have we been working for so long?" The student was astonished, gazing at the dark sky through the window.

“저희가 모든 걸 정리할게요! 죄송합니다!” exclaimed the duchess, gathering all the papers on the table.

As she collected the papers, Megan examined each of her drawings before giving Yoonchae a knowing look. She smiled at her and then chuckled softly. As usual, just two bursts of laughter.

Two bursts that resonated right in Megan’s heart.

~~~~

Megan loved danger. She knew that if a guard saw her venturing down that corridor, she'd get a slap on the wrist. Yoonchae had explained that there were plenty of places in the castle they weren't allowed to go. But Megan was tired of seeing the same rooms over and over again.

She decided to return to the corridor with the Cleveland family portraits. She wasn't done making fun of their mustaches and droopy eyes.

She crept forward, trying not to make the floorboards creak. She was afraid of running into the housekeeper from last time. She didn't want to put anyone in danger with her foolishness.

She finally reached the portraits. They hadn't moved. Some of the frames were dusty; she could see the grain with the naked eye.

Megan studied each of the important members of the Cleveland family. She didn't recognize anyone.  

Since landing in the 19th century, she hadn't seen any members of the family. She'd heard of the duke, but he still didn't seem to have returned from his journey. In fact, aside from the two guards, the housekeeper, and Yoonchae, Megan didn't speak to anyone. Yet she saw many people, heard laughter in the kitchens, and conversations in the living rooms.

"Are they dead?" Megan wondered, examining the dustiest paintings.

Judging the quality of the paint, the student figured some of the paintings were over ten years old. The canvas was cracked, the paint was peeling, and the colors were increasingly dull. But one painting, the last one, was almost new. Megan felt as if she could run her finger across it and it would come away covered in paint.

The man depicted in the painting was tall. Beneath his beard, Megan could make out a square, thick jaw.  Her neck was broad and perfectly sculpted. Her red hair was slicked back, though a stray lock fell across her forehead. She didn't remember ever seeing this painting before.

"Who is this?"

Out of habit, from her many museum visits, Megan glanced down to read the caption. But there was nothing, no explanatory plaque.

"He's the Duke."

Megan jumped. She hadn't realized someone was behind her.

She turned around. It was the housekeeper. She recognized her blond hair and her hooked nose.

"Y-you shouldn't talk to me, you're taking a big risk," Megan whispered, checking that none of the guards were coming down the corridor.

"I know, but I wanted to talk to you. I never see you. And I'm curious. I've never seen an Asian woman before." 

A little too curious, the woman leaned forward to examine Megan’s dark hair. The student took a step back, placing her arm between her strands to show she was too close.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she apologized. “My name is Emily. And yours is… Men-gonk?”

“Mei-yok,” Megan corrected through gritted teeth, hurt by the sound of her Chinese name being mangled.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry! I misunderstood the last time we spoke.”

“Now you know.”

“You speak English very well, I’m impressed.”

“I’m American, so I’d better speak English well.”

Without a word, Emily turned toward the duke’s portrait. She looked at it from top to bottom before saying,

“The duke is the man in charge of this castle. Do you have dukes in Joseon?”

“We have lords,” Megan clarified, though she wasn’t sure if they were actually lords in Korea.

“Oh, lords. We had those too. But Duke August is a different kind of nobleman. Contemporary, new. I know he’ll make history.”

At the sound of the duke’s name, Megan’s mind went blank.

August. Like the one mentioned in the caption of the Duchess Charlotte Cleveland's portrait. She had landed in the time of Duke Augustus. Yet, she still hadn't met his wife.

"And Charlotte?" Megan asked.

"Charlotte?" Emily repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Who is she?"

"Well... his wife."

"Um... no. The Duke's wife is the Duchess. Your mistress."

Megan frowned and shook her head. No. The portrait of the woman in the museum during her time wasn't Yoonchae. The woman was white, and her face wasn't painted like the Duchess's. And most importantly, Yoonchae wasn't named Charlotte.

It was at that moment that Megan understood something. It might seem obvious, but she had never thought about it before.

She knew the future.

So she knew that Yoonchae wasn't going to be the duchess people remembered. But why? Why was Yoonchae erased from history? Who was Charlotte?

Emily glanced quickly down the corridors.

"I'd better go. I don't want one of your guards jumping me. I'd like to keep my head tied around my neck," she joked with a smile.

"You're right."

"See you soon, Mei-yok, I hope."

Emily smiled one last time at Megan, then left to return to the kitchens.

The student watched her go before looking up at the portrait of Duke August. Was he Yoonchae's husband?

The duchess hadn't mentioned her husband much. Just once, to say that Megan wasn't allowed to use his first name here. Otherwise, she didn't talk about him.  She didn't say she missed him or talk about his personality. She didn't share a single anecdote about him.

"Maybe because she doesn't know how to tell stories in English. Maybe she's already told me about him, but I didn't understand," Megan thought to herself.

She caught the duke's eye. His green eyes pierced the canvas as they stared at Megan. She swallowed before heading back to her room.

"Yoonchae is probably awake."

~~~~

“The ducks. They’re playing.”

Megan looked up from her drawing when Yoonchae said the words. She kept the remark to herself, but she was surprised by the duchess’s accent. She thought she was hearing a British person, not a Korean learning English.

“That’s right,” Megan confirmed, watching two ducks preening their feathers in the pond.

“그들은 친구입니다. 그들은 항상 함께 있습니다,” said the duchess.

“Huh?”

Megan tilted her head to the side to show Yoonchae that she hadn’t understood. The duchess clasped her hands together and then pointed to the ducks.

“친구.”  She said slowly.

The student looked at the ducks. Yoonchae was probably talking about the bond between them.

“Do you think they’re a couple?” Megan asked.

“그들이 함께 놀면, 그건 그들이 친구이기 때문입니다.”

“I don’t know if ducks are showing affection by cleaning each other’s feathers.”

In moments like these, Megan wished she had her cell phone with her to look up the answer online. But it was impossible to carry anything with her in her dress. Even her papers—she had to carry everything in her arms. Or, she wished she had Manon by her side.  Manon was the kind of person who knew improbable anecdotes, which she'd drop into the background of a conversation to liven things up.

"Mei-yok," Yoonchae called softly.

"Yes?" Megan replied, sitting up.

"How old... are you?"

Megan's eyes widened. She hadn't expected that question. Mainly because she hadn't taught Yoonchae those words, which meant she'd learned things on her own, without Megan. But also because, by now, Megan had given up on asking the duchess any simple questions.

"Um... I'm 19," she replied.

"그 숫자가 뭔지는 모르겠어요," she said.

"Wait."

Megan pulled out one of her slips of paper and wrote her age in the corner. Yoonchae frowned before gently shaking her head to show she hadn't understood.

"Of course, Koreans didn't know Arabic numerals back then. Damn," Megan thought to herself through gritted teeth.

The duchess then let out an inspired cry, as if she had discovered something. She hastily tapped her attendant on the shoulder, who immediately looked at her.

"Look," Yoonchae ordered, holding up her spread fingers.

Megan quickly raised her chin, showing that she was listening. The duchess lowered her fingers one by one, counting as she went.

Megan quickly raised her chin, showing she was listening. The duchess lowered her fingers one by one, counting.

"하나, 둘, 셋, 넷…"

Megan counted each lowered finger.

"열일곱!" the duchess finished.

"Seventeen? You're seventeen. That's fine, we're not that far apart in age."

She took her pencil and wrote Yoonchae's age next to her own.

"And do you know your birthday?" Megan asked.

"Birthday?"

"The day you were born. Hmm…"

The student quickly drew a baby wrapped in a blanket, as if it had just been born. Then, she wrote her birthday: February 10th.  She didn't specify the year, because if she explained to someone from the 19th century that she was born two centuries later, she'd end up at the stake.

"내 생일이야. 어떻게 말해야 할까 ?" Yoonchae wondered, scratching her chin.

"You can write, if you like," Megan offered, holding out her pencil.

"No. Look again."

Once again, Yoonchae raised her fingers.

"Um... Do you start with the day or the month?" Megan asked.

"Hmm... like you?"

"The month first. There are only twelve months," the student explained, raising ten, then two fingers.

"Yes! Yes! 십이월!"

"December? Okay. And the day?"

Once again, Yoonchae counted on her fingers. But this time, she stopped at six.

"You were born on December 6th. That's how it's written," Megan explained, writing the date.

"우리는 같은 계절 출신이야. 그건 운명이야," 

"And how long have you been here?"

"What?"

Megan bit her lower lip. She was going to have to mime.

"Joseon. You."

She pointed at Yoonchae before miming a person walking.

"Arrived here. In England."  “

Upon hearing the name of her homeland, Yoonchae’s expression darkened. Megan gritted her teeth. She hoped she had made herself clear. She didn’t want her to misunderstand what she had said, or worse, to think that Megan was being disrespectful. The duchess then pointed to her birthday and raised a finger. The student tilted her head to the side.

“Since your birthday? So a few months, if I understand correctly.”

“저는 생일 이후로 계속 여기 있었어요. 여기서 봄을 봤죠," Yoonchae replied.

“But why are you here, actually? Are you married to the duke?” 

The duchess flinched at the word “duke.” Once again, her gaze darkened. Yet, her lower lip began to tremble. She was searching for the right words.

“I’m… like your mother,” she replied after a moment’s thought.

“Like my mother?” Megan asked, frowning, unsure what her mother had to do with it.

"나는 사업 거래 때문에 공작과 결혼했어. 네 어머니도 그랬잖아, 안 그래 ?"

“I don’t understand.”

Yoonchae bit her lower lip before looking down. She was searching for something.  She then found two sticks at the foot of the bench. She picked them up and offered one to Megan.

The student took it, perplexed. Yoonchae settled herself properly and said,

"My stick. Your stick."

Then, she took Megan's stick while offering her own. They exchanged sticks.

“Your stick is mine. My stick is yours. 교환,” the duchess concluded.

“What? We just swapped sticks?”

As she repeated the action, emphasizing each movement, Megan’s eyes widened when she understood.

Yoonchae was a business deal. A marriage simply to smooth things over, to ensure the relationship between the Clevelands and her family in Korea was secure. Megan swallowed hard. Yoonchae had ended up in England against her will, alone, without knowing a word of English, married to a man far too old, at barely 17. And she was still there. Smiling.

She imagined the young duchess patiently waiting for someone to speak to her, for something to happen. What did she do when Megan wasn’t there?

No one had bothered to teach Yoonchae English.  No one was allowed to see her. She ate alone, all the time.

“Is that why she protected me?” Megan wondered, thinking back to the day they met.

She also felt pain at Yoonchae’s remark. How could she explain that, in her time, people left their country willingly to find a better life on the other side of the ocean? That there was no need for a trade agreement or an arranged marriage to live in territories far from her continent.

She wanted to tell her that one day, if she wanted, she could leave here without anything holding her back. No title, no marriage, no guards to prevent her from leaving and returning home.

“My mother… isn’t a trade agreement,” Megan said simply.

“상업적 거래 대상이 아니라고요? 그럼 어떻게 미국에 가게 된 거죠?” the duchess asked.

“I don’t know.”

The young woman shrugged sadly. She hadn’t understood what Yoonchae had said. But she was responding.

Megan closed her eyes and looked at the trees. Had the duchess already left the gardens?

~~~~

That day was a day of celebration. Yoonchae had received new dresses. Normally, Megan would have criticized overconsumption, the fact that the Duchess didn't need new dresses, or the environmental disaster caused by clothing production at that time.

But Yoonchae wouldn't understand. So, Megan decided to keep quiet and help her put on her dresses.

It was the Duke who had sent them. He had written a note in the box that Yoonchae hadn't even looked at. She had thrown it on the floor to admire her new clothes. Megan had picked up the note. It was the least romantic message she had ever read in her life.

Dear, here are some new dresses. -Auguste

He hadn't even bothered to write her name. What a lazybones.

“색감이 너무 마음에 들어요! 이 파란색 너무 예뻐요, 정말 마음에 들어요.”

“This blue looks like the dress you gave me,” Megan said, leaning over Yoonchae’s bed to look at all the clothes spread out.

“당신도 한번 드셔보시겠어요 ?"

“Um…”

“Ah. Hmm… will you… wear them… as well?” Yoonchae asked, carefully considering each word.

She nervously tugged at her fingers. She was worried her English was bad.  But instead, Megan applauded softly.

“Well done! A very nice line,” she praised.

“Really? 저는 학습 속도가 빠릅니다!” Yoonchae said with a proud smile.

“You can keep your dresses. They’re yours. It’s your gift,” Megan replied.

“But…”

The duchess straightened up and pointed at the student, then at herself. Her lower lip trembled.

“We are… friends. You can wear my dress.”

Megan’s heart skipped a beat. Her cheeks flushed, and the color rose to her ears.

It was the first time Yoonchae had addressed her as anything other than her attendant. Yet, she shouldn’t be surprised. They laughed together, even though they didn’t speak the same language.  Yoonchae looked at each of Megan's drawings as a work of art, and the student was always happy to see the duchess's progress in learning English. They could have been just a duchess and her lady-in-waiting.

But Yoonchae had come to Megan's room to cry. And even though she hadn't understood her, she had listened and watched each tear fall.

"Um... I could try it on, if you like," the student replied, smiling shyly.

"Yes! Some dresses... might suit you better," Yoonchae said, running her hands around Megan's figure.

"I don't think so. But try them on first."

"What is your favorite color?"

"I don't know if you're familiar with it. Peach pink."

"Pink? Like this?" the duchess asked, pointing to the pink dress on her bed.

“No, it would be more fuchsia. I’ll show you sometime.”

“I like pink.”

“Me too.”

Still smiling from their conversation, the duchess turned her back to Megan. Slowly, she ran her hand through her dark hair, pulling it over her shoulder.

“Can you help me?” she asked in a low voice.

She was referring to the knot in her corset. Megan swallowed.

“Why doesn’t she do it herself?” she wondered.

She and Yoonchae had already had many discussions about corsets. Neither of the young women was used to having their breasts compressed. Megan because she always wore oversized clothes, Yoonchae because traditional Korean clothing didn’t constrict the ribcage. So, they would share their experiences. Yoonchae had learned to tie and untie her corset by herself, with her hands behind her back.

So, Megan didn’t understand why she was asking her for help. Yet, she obeyed the duchess.

Her fingers slid over the laces and undid the ties. She gently pulled on the thread. The corset loosened, gradually revealing Yoonchae’s bare back.

Megan’s heart began to beat faster. She was relieved that the duchess didn’t see her blush. Why was she blushing like that? She had no idea.  It wasn't the first time she'd seen a girl's back. But Yoonchae's was different… like a blank canvas.

Her eyes never left her skin. She saw the shoulder blades move, felt each breath stretch her ribcage.

Megan wanted to paint a field of flowers on her back. Sunflowers, roses, tulips, snowdrops, hydrangeas… all the flowers she knew. All the ones that could be found in gardens, in China, Joseon, or the United States.

Involuntarily, Megan's fingertip brushed against Yoonchae's back, and she shivered at the touch. A jolt shot through the student's body, as if she'd been struck by lightning. Her hand trembled, the corset string still wrapped between her fingers.

Yoonchae glanced quickly over her shoulder. Megan looked deep into the duchess's eyes.  She could drown in it, but if that meant dying in the stars of his gaze, then Megan was ready. She would let every celestial body in Yoonchae's universe enter her, devour every ray, every sparkle.

Inspiration flowed through Megan's veins. She struggled to keep her hand still. She wanted to grab a pencil, a paintbrush, anything to free her fingers from their impulses.

"Are you alright?" Yoonchae asked, holding the corset against her chest.

Megan didn't answer. She was too lost in her thoughts, their rhythm dictated by the frantic beating of her heart. Her mind was no longer clear, all her senses disoriented.

She shook her head to regain her composure. She unlaced the corset before turning her head to let the duchess change in peace.

A whole field of flowers had just bloomed in Megan's mind.  Each petal floated in the wind, carried away by the storm of inspiration.

She had found her muse.

Megan hadn't felt this passion coursing through her veins for months.

~~~~

“Do you realize what you’re asking me?!” the guard shouted.

Megan almost had to cover her ears at the guard’s yell. She hated having to argue with him. She preferred the other one, who was calmer and more dreamy. It was easier to ask him for something than the other heartless hulking brute.

“It’s nothing much… I just wanted to go out and buy a peach,” the student sighed.

“You can’t go out. And you know that perfectly well.”

The guard crossed the corridors, moving away from Megan. But she wasn’t going to let him get away. She started following him as fast as she could in her dress.

“Can you at least buy me one? I’ve been dreaming of eating one for weeks,” she said.

“No. You eat the castle food, and that’s it.”

“I’ve seen people cooking peaches. But we never eat them,” Megan muttered.

“How could you have seen people in the kitchen?”

Megan swallowed hard. She should have kept her mouth shut. Now the guard knew she was leaving the wing of the castle where she was supposed to be staying.

“Just long enough to buy a peach. Please,” the student asked again.

“No. You won’t go out, not even to the market,” the guard replied, shaking his head.

“I’ll be discreet. I need a cloak, and I’ll go out covered.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Buy me one then. Or ask the people in the kitchens to pass me one.”

“No.”

“Why? You have no justification. If we do that, I won’t go out, and no one will see me. It’ll just be you getting a peach in the kitchens.”

 “That’s enough!”

As they reached the end of the corridor, the guard placed his hand on the handle and opened the door. At that very moment, the second guard stepped through. In his hand, he held two peaches.

“Well? What’s going on?” he asked, noticing his colleague’s bewildered expression and the wonder in the other woman’s eyes.

“Peaches,” Megan breathed.

“Would you like some?”

“Yes! Please!”

Without a word, he handed the two peaches to the young woman, who couldn't help but smile. The first guard crossed his arms, looking sulky.

"You shouldn't give them to her, Charles. We shouldn't even be talking to them," he said.

"Don't be so upset. Emily will give us more peaches."

"The peaches aren't the problem!"

"Thank you very much, Charles!" Megan said, thanking him before turning back.

She walked excitedly down the corridor, gazing at the peaches as if they were treasures.

It had been ages since she'd eaten any. Actually, it might have been a few months since she'd arrived in the 19th century, but that was almost two hundred years ago.

Megan loved peaches. She still remembered eating them when she was little.  And these weren't just any peaches: Chinese peaches, the kind her grandfather brought back every time he came to the United States. They were juicier, more fibrous, more fleshy, and… Just by biting into one, Megan felt a connection to her roots.

She loved this fruit so much that it had become her favorite color. She loved its history, its connection to China, so she always wanted to keep a little bit of peach with her, at least in her heart.

“Your Highness! Look!”

Megan entered Yoonchae’s room without knocking. The Duchess looked up from the window. Seeing the two peaches in her attendant’s hands, she smiled.

"복숭아. 정말 오랜만에 먹어보네요."

“Do you know this? It’s a peach. It’s my favorite color.”

“A peach,” Yoonchae repeated, gently stroking the fruit’s skin.

“It’s from China. My grandfather often brought them back for me when he came to visit.”

“China?”

“Yes. Where I’m from. Remember? On the world map,” Megan specified, twirling the fruit in her hand.

“But you said… that you’re from the United States too,” Yoonchae corrected, tilting her head to the side.

Megan chuckled softly. The complicated part about her origins was about to begin.

“Yeah, I know. Just wait.”

The next girl walked over to the duchess’s wardrobe. Opening the door, she put the fruit in her mouth so she could reach the tube containing the world map. Yoonchae chuckled softly.

"입에 복숭아를 물고 있는 당신을 보니 우리가 먹는 통돼지구이가 생각나요."

“I hope what you’re saying is nice,” Megan said, setting the tube against the desk and taking a bite of her peach.

“I said… you’re pretty,” the duchess said mischievously.

“Hmm… I don’t think that’s true.”

“아마도.”

The student placed her peach on the desk so she could unfold the map.

“A little history lesson about your favorite lady-in-waiting,” Megan said, placing a hand on her chest and puffing out her chest.

“What?”

“I come from two places.”

Megan raised her index and middle fingers. Then she pointed to China.

“My mother is from here.”

“China,” Yoonchae said.

“That’s right. And my father…”

She gently traced the map, sliding her finger down to the United States.

“He’s from here. The United States. And a little bit of Europe,” she added, pointing to Sweden.

“I don’t understand,” Yoonchae admitted.

“What do you mean?”

“Your mother… isn’t an exchange. How did your father and mother…”

The duchess took her two index fingers and timidly joined them.

“How did they meet?” Megan guessed.

Yoonchae nodded.

The student lowered her eyes, biting her lower lip.

“Well… I come from a world where borders are no longer a barrier. My parents met when my mother left China.”

The duchess raised an eyebrow. Megan laughed.

 “One day, I’ll show you,” she said, shaking her head.

“Okay,” Yoonchae replied.

The student wondered if the duchess lived in a world without borders. If she would ever see another Asian woman in England besides Megan. If she could return to her parents’ house in a few hours, like in 2025.

Then, she took a bite of the peach. Megan was about to take hers to finish it before realizing what was happening.

“Hey! You’re eating my peach?” she exclaimed indignantly.

“Ha ha!” laughed the duchess, taking a step back and clutching the peach to her chest.

“You could have taken your own! There are two of them!”

"네 작품이 더 나아 보였어 !"

"I'll never bring you another peach if you steal mine!"

Yoonchae bit into the fruit, provoking Megan by looking her straight in the eyes. The student narrowed her eyes before saying,

"Look at the flesh of the fruit."

The duchess removed the peach from her lips and examined it. The flesh was pink and juicy. Juice dripped down Yoonchae's fingers.

"That's it, my favorite color. Peach pink," Megan explained, leaning over the fruit.

"It's a beautiful color," said the duchess.

"Yes."

"We have... colors in..."

Yoonchae then pointed to the end of the west wing of the castle while still biting into her peach. Megan narrowed her eyes.

"In what?" she asked.

"워크숍이요. 영어로 어떻게 표현해야 할지 모르겠네요."

"Hum..."

Yoonchae gently patted Megan's hand before leaving her room. The next girl followed, letting the duchess lead the way.

"Aren't those rooms down the hall?" she asked.

"워크숍이에요. 가본 적 없으세요?" 

Megan shook her head to show her friend she didn't understand. Yoonchae pushed open a door that led to another hallway.

Dust floated in the air, sparkling in the sunlight.  It had been a long time since anyone had ventured here. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. Megan let out a sneeze.

Despite the dust, the duchess walked on as if she knew the way. She opened another door, which creaked as it slid across the floor.

Megan's breath caught in her throat as she took in the room. It was an artist's workshop. Easels stood in every corner, one holding an unfinished canvas. Pots of paintbrushes sat on a table covered in paint. At the far end of the room, beneath the windows, dressers were piled high with paint pots, sorted by color. Bookshelves laden with books reached to the ceiling. A ladder stood nearby, allowing access to the books one needed. A few books lay open on the floor.

For Megan, it felt like home.  At her university, the workshops were always packed. Every. Day. And at all hours. She hated it. She hated arriving at ten o'clock at night and seeing people still there painting. That's why she'd prioritized drawing: it was easier to draw at home than to paint.

Before her eyes, she had an empty workshop, just her and Yoonchae. It was like a dream. As if what she'd been experiencing for weeks was real.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! I can't believe it!" Megan exclaimed, heading toward the canvas storage area at the back of the room.

“제 남편의 어머니는 화가 였습니다. 그녀는 그림 그리는 것을 좋아하셨고, 그림으로 스트레스를 풀곤 하셨습니다” Yoonchae said, following the student.

“This is incredible! It has everything I want! Look at these brushes! It’s the first time I’ve ever seen any like these!”

Megan handed the dozen or so brushes to the duchess. As she showed them the brushes, her gaze was drawn to the unfinished painting. Without realizing it, she dropped the brushes. Yoonchae tried to catch them, but some fell to the ground.

"이 작품을 당신에게 보여준 것을 후회하지 않기를 바랍니다."

“This painting is incredible! It’s a real 19th-century painting, and it’s not some portrait of an old white colonist! It’s amazing! But… what is it, actually?” Megan asked, trying to guess the shape already drawn on the canvas.

“넌 마치 어린아이 같아,” Yoonchae laughed.

“Huh?”

Megan turned around at the duchess’s laughter. The duchess smiled, then bit her lower lip.

“You’re… like a child,” she said hesitantly.

“Of course! You’ve just shown me this workshop after months! I can’t contain my excitement!” Megan replied, practically jumping up and down.

“I… thought you already knew.”

“No! I thought the guards would catch me if I came here. Oh, I can’t believe it! It's incredible!"

Amazed, Megan cupped her hands to the sides of her face, trying to calm herself. She needed to come back down to earth. The duchess probably didn't understand a word she was saying.

As she turned around, the student met Yoonchae's amused gaze.

Thousands of stars shone in her eyes. Megan's happiness made the stars shine. It was as if it were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

She approached the duchess and gently took her forearms.

"Can I use it? This whole workshop?" Megan asked.

"Yes. No one's in it," Yoonchae replied.

"How can I thank you?"

"Um..."

"Ask me anything. I'll do it. I promise."

The duchess rolled her eyes, thinking.  Megan leaned towards Yoonchae. So close, she could see the stars in his eyes.

She would never look up at the sky again. From now on, when she wanted to see stars, she would look at Yoonchae. She wanted to see all the constellations in his eyes, what galaxies were hidden behind his pupils, and know which star would be hers in that same constellation.

The duchess's lower lip began to tremble. Megan stepped back slightly.

Yoonchae pointed at herself as she searched for the right words.

"Paint... me."

~~~~

It was time for bed. Megan was exhausted. Whenever she had a spare second, she spent it in the workshop. She always enjoyed her walks in the gardens with the Duchess, but each time, she observed the workshop from afar.

And Yoonchae noticed. Sometimes, she would innocently ask, “Do you want to go to the workshop?” because she knew it was the only thing Megan looked forward to all day. And they always ended their walks at the same place: the workshop. They could spend hours there.

The student painted everything she could show the Duchess. She explained everything there was to know about colors, brushes, and painting techniques. Perhaps she was explaining things that wouldn't be discovered for years, but she didn't care. She wanted to explain everything to Yoonchae.

 The duchess had finally been touched by her lady-in-waiting's overflowing passion and had tried painting. But the result didn't live up to her drawings. Her painting of a cat looked like something a kindergartener would do.

"Is that Oreo?" Megan had asked. "It looks like a dinosaur."

"A dinosaur?"

"Hmm. Never mind. The T-Rex isn't for now."

For the moment, Megan hadn't started her painting of Yoonchae. She needed to practice, to get back into the swing of things. After months of drawing with pencils, holding a brush felt uncomfortable. Besides, she wanted to understand 19th-century painting. She could see that the texture and even the material of the brushes weren't the same as in her time. She wanted to experiment before wasting anything.

That day, after spending hours in the workshop, Megan finally gave in to exhaustion. She couldn't go on any longer.  Her excitement and inspiration had consumed all her energy.

Even Yoonchae, exhausted by her attendant's commotion, had finally given up and gone to bed while the candles were still burning. 

Megan collapsed onto her bed the moment she slipped into her nightgown. She prayed the duchess would sleep in late the next morning. She was already dreaming of her deep sleep and peaceful night.

Through the window, she could see the moon shining brightly in the night sky.

"How late did I stay in the workshop?" she wondered, running a hand through her hair.

Her face buried in the duvet, Megan drifted slowly into the arms of Morpheus.

Her mind became hazy. It was as if the walls were melting, as if the world were twisting under the weight of her heart.

She thought about everything. Everything. About Lara and her laughter.  To Manon and her judgmental stares. To Daniela and her discussions about boys. To Sophia and her voice when she sang at the top of her lungs.

She missed her friends. Even though she'd found them annoying during the museum visit, Megan longed to see them again and hug them. Then, as she imagined running towards them, everything distorted.

Her friends' bodies became limp, liquid like paint. Their arms melted, and the color of their skin sank into the canvas.

The four friends became a single creature with multiple faces. Laughter escaped from each of its mouths. It was a greasy, guttural laugh. With each burst, Megan saw the chest of the deformed creature rise. And, suddenly, she saw her mother.

She jumped.

"It can't be. Mom's in China. No way,” Megan refuted, shaking her head.

Yet, she couldn’t look away. It had been months since she’d last seen her, long before she landed in the 19th. She’d almost forgotten the sound of her voice, the color of her hair, or the sparkle in her eyes.

Her mother watched her. She held her wrist tightly against her. Between her fingers was Megan’s jade bracelet. She knew it was hers because it had that stripe at the eyes of the first dragon engraved in the jade.

“Well done, Megan. You did everything I wanted,” her mother said, snapping the jade bracelet off her wrist.

“What? What are you talking about?” Megan asked, stepping back.

“You’ve disappeared! No more weight behind me! I’ll never have to worry about what I left behind in the United States again!”

The student felt her heart sink at those words. 

Did her mother see her only as a burden? Something to forget in the United States? Did her mother miss her life there?

“I never liked anything I had there! I was so stupid when I was young! Falling into the arms of the first American who came along!” the woman cried, her voice distorting with every word.

“Stop, Mom, I’m scared,” Megan begged, continuing to back away without taking her eyes off her mother.

“I got you. The day you were born, I’ve never cried so much in my life. I was consumed by regret. But I couldn’t leave anymore. You were the one who kept me prisoner here!”

“Mom…”

Megan took another step back. The ground became liquid. She plunged violently into the dark water, feeling her back burn.

She tried to hold her breath. But the water seeped into her skin and lungs. Megan choked, she screamed, but the water drowned out the sound as it continued to plunge into her. In despair, the student tried to surface. But the current was too strong, and the jade balls too heavy.

The jade balls?

Megan lowered her head.  Two jade bracelets encircled her ankles, pulling her down. But that wasn't what worried the student most.

Deep in the abyss, two red eyes stared at her. Sharp fangs loomed in the darkness. Megan's heart stopped. She thrashed as hard as she could. She couldn't waste time removing her weights; she had to surface to escape this monster.

But it swam faster. And before she even realized it, the creature's jaws slowly closed, trapping Megan inside.

"No! No!"

Megan gave one last push to pull herself out of the water. Her hand slapped her pillow.

She was back in her room, at the Cleveland estate. Sweat trickled down her skin, as if she'd just been caught in the rain. Her nightgown was soaked.  Megan quickly tugged at the fabric before cursing. There was no way she could sleep in this.

In fact, she wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep. Not after a nightmare like this. With the help of the moonlight, Megan lit a candle for some light.

"What am I going to do?" she wondered, sitting up in bed.

She could draw, go to the workshop, wander around the castle… anything would help her relax. The flickering flame reflected off the walls. Megan watched the light shimmer before slowly rubbing her eyes.

"I still have my book."

Her copy of Hamlet was waiting patiently. It had been weeks since Megan had opened it. Tonight was the perfect opportunity to pick it up again.

After changing her nightgown, she stuffed her pillows before lying down. The sheets were warm from her nightmares.  She could almost hear the creature breathing in the rustle of her duvet.

She grabbed the book and opened it to the spot where she'd dog-eared the page. Oh, if Daniela saw this, she'd have a fit. She hated it when people hurt the pages of a book, even a textbook.

"Dani wasn't born yet at that time, so I don't care," Megan consoled herself, remembering her friend's screams when she twisted her pages.

As she concentrated on reading the first page, there was a knock at the door.

The student looked up. A cold sweat trickled down her neck. It was like something out of a horror movie. She'd just woken up from a nightmare, and someone was knocking at her door in the middle of the night.

When there was no answer, the person entered.

The Duchess.

 She closed the door without a word, even though Megan hadn't given her permission to enter.

"Is everything alright, Your Grace?" the student asked, closing her book.

"No," Yoonchae replied, approaching her attendant.

"You can't sleep."

"Yes. But I have… 악몽. I can't quite put it."

"Nightmares?" Megan guessed.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Come."

She pulled back her duvet and shifted to the left side of her bed, inviting the duchess to join her. Yoonchae hesitated for a moment before climbing onto the mattress and sinking into the sheets.

She let out a long sigh as her head sank into the soft pillows.

“꿈에서 누군가가 당신을 내게서 데려가려고 했어요,” she said, staring up at the ceiling.  “난 아무것도 할 수 없었어. 네가 떠나는 걸 지켜보고 너 없이 살아갈 수밖에 없었지.”

“Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?” Megan asked, placing her book on her lap.

The duchess shook her head. Her eyes fell on the copy of Hamlet.

“What is it?” Yoonchae asked, turning to the side.

“Hamlet. A play by William Shakespeare,” the student replied, quickly pointing to the book cover.

“무슨 내용인가요? The story?”

“Hmm… well… I haven’t gotten very far, so I couldn’t tell you.”

 “Read me the story.”

At that command, Megan felt her back tense. She gritted her teeth.

“Hmm… I don’t think I’m a good storyteller,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Um…”

She nervously scratched the back of her neck. She could still feel drops of sweat from her nightmare in her hair.

“I’m… dyslexic,” Megan confessed in a whisper.

“What is that?”

“I have trouble reading words. I understand them, but I have to concentrate, much more than most people. It takes me a while to understand a text. So, if I tell you the story, it might be a long one.”

Yoonchae blinked slowly, observing Megan. The student lowered her head. She knew that explaining dyslexia to a Victorian woman was too ahead of her time.  She surely wouldn't understand, and would just take her for an illiterate.

But instead, the duchess rested her head on Megan's shoulder and snuggled close.

"It is nothing. I... I need time to understand English words. That is fine with me."

Megan's heart sank at this remark. It melted under the Korean accent of every word. And it wept with pride because Yoonchae could now form complete sentences in English without hesitation.

But deep down, something new began to throb. Megan couldn't find the exact word to describe this feeling. It wasn't inspiration or joy. She had felt this before, when she had helped Yoonchae remove her corset, but this time, it was stronger.

As if a sun began to burn in her heart, and thousands of stars formed all around it. 

Megan smiled. She sank back onto the pillows and snuggled up to the duchess.

"Okay. I'll start from the beginning, then. So you understand everything."

"Okay."

~~~~

In the 21st century, Megan had already run away from home. She'd already escaped when her parents argued too loudly and the shouting echoed through her bedroom walls. Often, she spent the night at Lara's house, which was nearby. But on rare occasions, Megan walked alone through the city, to the beach, to watch the moon illuminate the ocean.

But that evening, Megan wasn't running from any argument, and she didn't have any secret rendezvous with the moon.

She had planned to take Yoonchae to see Romeo and Juliet.

It had all started during a conversation with Emily. Despite the sword of Damocles hanging over her head, the housekeeper chatted with Megan whenever she could. She was curious, but respectful at the same time. And she loved talking about herself. Which didn't bother Megan. She liked experiencing a more ordinary life back then, knowing how the world worked outside the Duchess's safe zone.

 Emily had mentioned the play: Romeo and Juliet. Megan, of course, knew it. It was impossible not to have in her day. There were so many versions of this romantic drama that she couldn't even count them all.

"The actors were amazing! I almost thought it was real!" Emily said.

"Really? I'd love to see," Megan breathed.

"You should hurry. The troupe's final performance is in two days."

Two days wasn't long.

But not impossible. So Megan had hatched a plan to escape with Yoonchae for one night without the guards noticing. She had gathered all the information from Emily.

Where? A few streets from the central square, right in the heart of the city. They would have to ditch their fine clothes for something more modest.

How to get there? They had to follow the road toward the plumes of smoke.  Megan and Yoonchae would go through the forest. It would be more discreet.

What time? The play started around 8:00 p.m. They would have to leave the estate an hour before it began.

Megan had planned everything. And she had done it all without giving Yoonchae a single clue. Since they had finished reading Hamlet, the duchess had been trying to find another book to delve into. But Megan wanted to show her the most famous romantic play of all time before she turned to another book.

That evening, the student struggled to hide her smile. They left the table early, as usual. Walking down the corridors, Megan took the duchess's wrist.

"Your Grace. May I be escorted to my room?" she asked.

"Huh? You have a new book to read to me?" Yoonchae guessed with an excited smile.

 “You could say that. It’s by the same author.”

The two friends went to the next room. As Yoonchae headed toward the bed to snuggle up to Megan and listen to the story, the student said,

“Wait. Don’t go to bed yet.”

“What?”

She handed the duchess a simple dress, just plain brown fabric.

“Put this on.”

“Aren’t we going to read?”

“No. We’re going to look at the book.”

“Look at… the book?” repeated Yoonchae, tilting her head to the side.

“Put on your dress. And quickly, or we’ll be late.”

They changed, their backs to each other, putting on their dresses. Megan wore a gray dress fitted at the waist. Yoonchae’s was looser, but she could see that the duchess was more comfortable in that kind of clothing.

Then, Megan handed a cape to her friend.

"It needs to cover your face completely. We mustn't be recognized," she ordered.

"경비원들이 우리가 하는 일을 알고 있을까요?" Yoonchae asked, pulling the hood over her head.

"No, pull the hood tighter."

Megan grabbed the hood's edges and pulled it down to cover the duchess's hair and the sides of her face.

"There. A real Little Red Riding Hood. With a black cape," she joked with a laugh.

"난 네 농담을 전혀 이해 못 해.“

Without a word, the student ordered Yoonchae to follow her. She opened the window, which overlooked the ground floor, and straddled the wall before extending her hand to the duchess.

“Do as I do. Without a sound.”

Yoonchae nervously tugged at her dress before swinging her first leg over the sill. Megan held her forearms firmly to prevent her from falling.

Cicadas were singing outside. The air was warm. The sun was setting in the distance, giving the sky an orange hue with a touch of midnight blue. It was a summer evening like any other.

The two girls walked away from the estate, hand in hand. Yoonchae often looked back.

“경비원들이 알아차리면 어떡하지?”  she asked as they walked along the gravel of the estate.

"Huh?"

"The guards," said the duchess.

"Ah! What if they find out?"

Megan turned to Yoonchae. With a smile, she ran her finger along her throat, sticking out her tongue.

"Squeak. I'm dead if they find out," she laughed.

"What?! Let's go home!" exclaimed the duchess, tugging on the attendant's arm.

"I was just kidding! Out of sight, out of mind!"

"무엇?"

"If they don't find out, I'll never be punished."

Megan slid her fingers from Yoonchae's wrist to her own hand. She squeezed it gently to reassure her.

"Huh."

The two young women jumped.  One of the two guards assigned to watch them was standing behind them. It was Charles, the friendly guard. Megan swallowed. Yoonchae tugged harder on her friend's hand.

"G-good evening, Charles," the student greeted.

"Good evening, ladies. Where are you going?" Charles asked.

"Um… Nowhere. We were just going to visit the woods."

Charles raised an eyebrow. His eyes took Yoonchae and Megan up and down, in their discreet, understated outfits.

"Mh. Of course. Visiting the woods. And definitely not seeing Romeo and Juliet," he said with a smile.

"Um… Exactly," Megan lied, seizing the opportunity (she wasn't trying to figure out if the guard was doing her a favor or was a complete idiot).

"Cover yourselves up better. The insects are ferocious in the woods."

He pulled down Megan and Yoonchae's hoods, hiding their faces.

“We wouldn’t want the mosquitoes attacking your faces.”

“Of course,” Megan replied, nodding.

“Come on, hurry up before Philippe notices. And be back before sunrise.”

Charles turned on his heel and headed toward the estate, whistling. The duchess watched him, pulling her hood up over her face.

“그는 우리를 경호원 없이 내보내는 거야?” she asked, surprised.

“Come on! We mustn’t miss the beginning of the play.”

Megan tugged on Yoonchae’s hand and headed toward the woods.

For about thirty minutes, they walked through the woods, not far from the road.  Sometimes, Megan would look up at the plumes of smoke. The closer they were, the faster her heart beat.

She wondered how Yoonchae would react to the play. Maybe she wouldn't understand everything. But the fact that it was a play would help her grasp the story. Emily had said the actors were excellent and managed to convey the characters' emotions. Yoonchae would understand without necessarily knowing all the words.

The atmosphere in the town square was different from that of the estate. Noisy, bustling, boisterous. The streets were packed. Men laughed, their arms around their friends' shoulders. Women danced in the middle of the square, holding hands. Children ran through the alleyways, kicking leather balls. Sitting by the fountain, musicians played the lute and guitar to the rhythm of the passersby's laughter. It was no longer the tranquility of the gardens, where only the ducks broke the silence. It wasn't the soft grass of the estate, but the dirty cobblestones of the city. Megan had taken the duchess far from the Cleveland estate. Yoonchae moved aside to let a man in a hurry pass, a man who said he had just received his first paycheck.

"너무나 많은 사람들…"

“I love this atmosphere! It reminds me of my hometown,” Megan said.

“Where are we going?”

“There.”

A poster was affixed to a sign: Romeo and Juliet. It was simple, but clear.

“What does it say?” Yoonchae asked, walking past the sign.

“Romeo and Juliet. It’s a play by William Shakespeare,” Megan explained.

“Who is that?”

"He wrote Hamlet. The book we read."

"그도 배우인가요?"

"It's the first time I've seen the original version of Romeo and Juliet. It's going to be strange."

"Original version?" Yoonchae repeated.

They arrived at the performance venue. Chairs were lined up in front of the stage, which was made of planks and ropes. Megan quickened her pace to take the few remaining seats closest to the stage.

"I'm sure you would have loved the version with Leonardo DiCaprio," she joked as she sat down.

"그런데 누구에 대해 이야기하는 건가요?“

Suddenly, three blows of a baton echoed from behind the stage. Megan gently tapped Yoonchae’s hand, signaling that she should now whisper. She also took the opportunity to pull the duchess’s hood down, completely obscuring her face.

Involuntarily, her hand brushed against her cheek. Their eyes met. It was as if a comet had just passed between them, leaving a trail of stardust behind it. Their eyes shone.

From this close, Megan could see the sky reflected in Yoonchae’s pupils. It was so beautiful, far more beautiful than a cloudless, starry sky. More beautiful than a shower of shooting stars. The duchess’s eyes were incomparable. All universes resided there, nestled in two slits controlled only by Yoonchae. At least, Megan’s universe was there. She saw her whole world reflected in those brown irises.

“Gregory, on my word, we won’t stand for their mockery!” shouted a man, bursting onto the stage.

At the sound of the first line, the two women jumped, their contemplation interrupted. They settled properly in their chairs and watched the scene.

The actors filed onto the stage. Megan listened attentively. It was the first time she had ever seen a play.

“Musicals aren’t theater, are they?” she had wondered several times during the intermissions.

Sometimes, she leaned close to Yoonchae’s ear to explain what the characters had just said and what had just happened. The duchess simply nodded without even looking at Megan. She was far too absorbed in the play to be distracted by listening to her attendant.

"It's adorable how caught up in the story," Megan thought.

Sometimes, Megan felt her squeeze her hand during dramatic moments. When Mercutio died facing Tybalt, she had let out a cry of exclamation. With every scene between Romeo and Juliet, a tender smile would appear on her face. She watched them with shining eyes, as if she were witnessing a true love story unfold.

And then came the scene that turned the play into a tragedy: the death of the two protagonists. Seeing Romeo drink the poison, Yoonchae leaned forward, whispering,

"아니요. 그녀는 자고 있어요. 마시지 마세요.“

When Juliet awoke, alone with Romeo’s lifeless body, the duchess squeezed Megan’s hand tighter, so tightly it hurt. But she said nothing. For she had seen the tear roll down Yoonchae’s cheek during Juliet’s desperate tirade.

When they left the town square, the duchess was still crying. She wiped her tears on a fold of her cloak, but they always came back.

"너무 슬프네요… 왜 저한테 그걸 보여주셨어요?" asked the duchess between sniffles.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry so much… I’m so sorry,” Megan apologized with an amused smile.

 “How can you like this kind of thing?”

“It’s a well-known story where I come from.”

“난 이제 영어 드라마를 더 이상 보고 싶지 않아. 절대로 다시는 안 볼 거야."

The student gently stroked the back of the duchess’s hand with her thumb to comfort her. As she wiped away her tears, she slowed her pace.

Sensing Yoonchae was lagging behind, Megan turned around.

“We need to hurry. The guard mustn’t know we’ve left,” she reminded them as they disappeared into the forest.

 “Mei-yok. I have a question,” Yoonchae said.

“Tell me. We can talk about it while we keep walking.”

“Where are you from?”

Megan looked over her shoulder, surprised by the question. They had already talked about it dozens of times.

“I already told you. From China and the United States,” she replied, gently tugging Yoonchae’s arm to encourage her to start walking again.

“No, I mean… How did you get here? Why were you sleeping under the tree that day?”

Megan’s heart stopped.

They had never talked about this. Mainly because Yoonchae had never asked the question. Because she didn’t know how to ask it. But now she did.

And she was able to understand the answer, no matter what words Megan used.

The student turned around. Yoonchae remained rooted to the spot in the middle of the forest, still holding her companion's hand.

"나무 아래에서 널 발견했어. 하지만 넌 나랑 같이 오지 않았잖아. 어떻게 여기에 오게 된 거야 ?"

Megan stared at her feet for a few seconds before letting out a small laugh. It was a nervous laugh. There was nothing funny about this situation.

Yoonchae was about to find out the truth. She would think her crazy if she told her she was from the 21st century.  She was going to think Megan was mocking her, or that she was taking her for a fool.

Except it was quite the opposite.

Megan longed to tell her the whole truth without Yoonchae's gaze changing when she looked at her. But that might mean the stars in her eyes would die. Megan wanted to gaze at them for eternity. To lose herself in the universe as long as it was in Yoonchae's eyes. She wanted to explore every galaxy and draw every star. A whole lifetime wasn't long enough for all that.

Losing everything in a single sentence would be a catastrophe. She couldn't lose everything she had built with Yoonchae. She couldn't lose the duchess.

"Will I be able to explain all this to you when I've finished your portrait?" Megan asked, her voice trembling.

Yoonchae moved closer to her attendant.  She gently slid a hand over his cheek, making his hood fall over his shoulders.

 “시간이 얼마나 걸리든 기다릴게요. 하지만 당신이 어디에서 왔는지 알고 싶어요. 당신과 함께 그곳으로 도망가고 싶거든요", she whispered, letting her thumb caress Megan's cheek to console her.

 "I don't understand..." admitted the student, feeling a tear in the corner of her eye.

 "I'll wait."

~~~~

In the days that followed, tension grew between Megan and Yoonchae. They did everything as usual, though. They went to the library to read and draw. Then, they spent a good part of the day in the garden, watching the ducks and the life at the edge of the woods. But every physical contact between them was now electric.

Whenever Megan's skin brushed against the duchess's, she flinched as if she had been scratched and apologized profusely. Yoonchae never knew how to respond to her attendant's panic.

Megan hadn't entered the workshop for several days. Perhaps she was afraid of having to tell Yoonchae the truth.

Yet, the duchess wasn't stupid. She suspected that something was wrong with Megan.

She had appeared in the gardens overnight, wearing clothes that didn't exist at that time.  She was an Asian woman who spoke perfect English, better than any other language. Yoonchae had never heard her speak Cantonese or Mandarin. She claimed to be from two countries, which was simply impossible.

And yet, every time she listened to Megan, Yoonchae was convinced: she was telling the truth. Her eyes weren't shifty, her hands weren't sweaty, and she never bit her lower lip.

She was simply afraid. Afraid of what would happen when she told the Duchess the truth. Of what would become of their relationship afterward.

Then, the news broke:

The Duke was returning in two weeks.

Yoonchae's husband was coming back to the estate. He would meet Megan. He would spend much more time with his wife, and she would spend less with her lady-in-waiting.

And both friends knew it.  They would no longer be able to spend their days drawing, making fun of ducks, or reading plays. They would no longer be able to sneak away at night to watch a show or listen to the bards' music in town. As soon as Duke Auguste returned, the routine that had settled between them would vanish.

This news came as a shock to the student. She no longer had time to be shy, no time to panic or worry. Inspiration flowed through her veins, and she was doing nothing with it. She had to stop. She couldn't waste every second she spent with her friend. Every heartbeat was more painful with this fear of the truth, and she would only escape this suffering by talking to Yoonchae.

Only by painting the most beautiful portrait anyone had ever created in that era.

One morning, she entered the duchess's room without even knocking.  Yoonchae, who had been sitting at her desk, gazing at the sky through the window, turned around.

The next woman was waiting by the door, breathless. She was wearing the same clothes as when they first met. Megan found it easier to draw in jeans and a t-shirt than in a dress and corset.

"I've prepared the workshop. I want to paint you. All day," she announced.

Yoonchae's eyes widened at this news.

"하지만 당신이 붓을 마지막으로 잡은 지 벌써 며칠이나 됐잖아요."

“I know. But I don’t want to waste any time. I want to paint you, as you asked,” Megan replied, as if she understood the duchess.

“Okay, Mei-yok. I’m coming. Let’s not waste any time,” Yoonchae conceded.

She stood up from her chair, but Megan stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Wait. I don’t want to paint you in this outfit,” she said.

“What? You don’t like my dress?” Yoonchae asked, glancing down at her own outfit.

“Yes. I love it. It suits you very well. But I want to paint you in your hanbok.”

Megan saw the light flash in the duchess’s eyes at the mention of her traditional dress. She looked at her incredulously at first before rushing to her wardrobe.

 All the dresses she had excitedly tried on, constantly telling Megan how stunning they were, now seemed like nothing more than cheap scraps of fabric. Yoonchae took out her hanbok as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Her fingers glided over the white silk, and her thumb gently caressed each embroidered flower. Her eyes shone, unable to contain the excitement within her. A huge smile spread across her face. She couldn't wait to put her hanbok back on.

"잠깐만요. 다른 물건들도 가져왔어요," she said, holding up a finger.

The hanbok was carefully placed on the bed, and then she went to her mirror and opened a drawer. After reaching to the bottom, she pulled out a small, perfectly varnished wooden box.  Curious, Megan approached.

Inside, resting on pieces of red silk, was a bracelet. It was made of strong black and gold threads, knotted with great precision to form a sort of star. At least, that's what Megan saw in the rectangle with its scattered corners.

"매듭. 몇 년 전에 했던 거예요. 여기서는 입고 나오기가 두려웠어요," Yoonchae breathed, carefully removing the bracelet from its box.

"It's magnificent," Megan murmured.

The duchess placed the box on her desk and handed the bracelet to the student.  She took the bracelet between her fingers and waited for Yoonchae to extend her wrist. But then she went to her bed to look at her hanbok.

"Well? Don't you want to put the bracelet on?" Megan asked.

"당신에게 여쭤보고 싶은 게 있어요."

"What?"

"I want to... wear your bracelet for painting."

Megan's heart skipped a beat.

Just hearing that sentence made it feel as if her wrist was bare. To reassure herself, the student gently stroked the jade, her skin brushing against the dragon engravings.

“Why?” Megan asked.

“I want… a piece of you in this portrait. And I don’t know what else to choose to have you. I want to be able to look at the painting and… think of you. Of our…” Yoonchae said, choosing her words carefully.

“Of our memories?”

“Yes. Memories. And in exchange, I’ll give you my bracelet. 내매듭 팔찌.”

The student raised her wrist. Her bracelet rested against her skin. It was cold, while Megan’s body throbbed. Her eyes fell on the line above the dragon’s eyes, etched in jade. As she placed her thumb on the indentation, the memories flooded back to Megan.

Could she really part with this bracelet? Removing it from her wrist would sever the last connection she had with her mother.

To erase this phantom relationship, because neither she nor her mother ever picked up the phone to call the other. Megan hadn't received a single message from her since returning to China. Was there still something between them?

Was Megan just the daughter, and nothing more?

Yet, she felt reluctant to remove the bracelet. To lose her connection to China, even for the length of a portrait. She couldn't imagine saying goodbye to her grandfather, to the peaches he brought back from China, to all the Lunar New Year celebrations she had experienced, to the two dragons that had followed her since she was a child.

"I don't want to... force you," Yoonchae said then, her lower lip trembling.

Their eyes met. A shooting star streaked across the sky.

Megan saw her star shine. Yoonchae radiated in the darkness of her hesitation.  The pain in the student's heart subsided, if only for a heartbeat.

Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and removed the bracelet.

"Okay. Take it," Megan finally agreed.

"Thank you so much, Mei-yok."

Before even putting on the jade bracelet, the duchess leaned down to fasten the black and gold one around Megan's wrist.

"An exchange," she said with a smile.

"Yes. An equivalent exchange."

Megan took Yoonchae's hand in hers. Her fingers caressed the duchess's skin. She gently squeezed her hand and said,

"Hold your hand as tightly as you can. It's not easy to put on."

With a little force, she managed to slip the jade bracelet onto Yoonchae's wrist. The duchess raised her hand and gazed at the engravings.

 “The dragons will protect you,” Megan confided.

Yoonchae smiled. Her cheeks flushed as soon as she ran her fingers over the cold stone. She was literally wearing Mei-yok on her wrist. Her best friend was always with her now.

“지금까지 나를 지켜준 건 용이 아니었다.”

“Go on, put on your hanbok.”

~~~~

For the next two weeks, Megan and Yoonchae didn't go to the gardens or the library. They spent all their time in the workshop. They wanted the portrait finished before the Duke's arrival.

For the portrait, Megan had chosen a large canvas, bigger than those normally used. She wanted everyone who passed by the painting to feel the immense love she had for the Duchess. For hours, she carefully selected the colors she wanted to use to depict Yoonchae.

Light, warm, bright colors, like the person herself. Yoonchae's kindness and courage should be felt in every brushstroke.

During these painting sessions, the two friends talked about things they had never discussed before.

Megan learned that when she still lived in Joseon, Yoonchae played a traditional instrument called a daegeum.  From what she understood, it was a kind of bamboo flute. She would have loved to hear the duchess play a piece, but her instrument had broken during the journey. Poorly secured barrels had come loose on the trip to England and crushed the crates containing the duchess's belongings.

Yoonchae had recounted this in a fragile voice. Seeing all the memories of her country literally shattered must have been so painful. Megan had felt it keenly when, in her nightmare, her mother had torn off her jade bracelet.

At the same time, Yoonchae discovered that Megan knew how to play the piano. She had made it clear that she wasn't the best and that there were artists like Chopin who existed at that time. But Yoonchae didn't care about Chopin or other Austrian pianists; she wanted to hear Megan play.

The portrait was gradually taking shape. Each day, the canvas was filling up.  At first, it all looked like a jumble of random colors and shapes. But little by little, as Megan painted the details, Yoonchae began to emerge, radiant.

The student had played with colors and sunlight to use peach pink for the flowers on the Duchess's hanbok. She had the opportunity to paint with her favorite color, so why not? Especially since it didn't seem to bother Yoonchae. The Duchess constantly complimented Megan's painting, even when Megan found it mediocre or highlighted its flaws.

That evening was a special one.

It was the last night before the Duke's return.

Yoonchae and Megan were, as usual, in the workshop. Illuminated by the glow of dozens of candles scattered around the room, Megan was finishing the details of the portrait. Her clothes were stained with paint from head to toe.  Her white t-shirt had served as a rag whenever she wanted to remove excess paint from the brush, and her jeans as a hand towel to wipe off the dried paint.

Yoonchae gazed at the painting with a huge smile, her eyes twisted with happiness.

The painted duchess was sublime. Dressed in her hanbok, which seemed more real than life, she smiled demurely. Her face was turned three-quarters towards the sunlight. Yoonchae had asked to be painted in her most flattering profile. Megan had had to work on her technique to ensure the face was accurate and captured the duchess's beauty.

The student concentrated. With the finest brush she could find, she slowly traced the engravings of her jade bracelet, trying to make them as faithful as possible.

"당신이 가장 좋아하는 꽃은 무엇인가요?"

"Huh?"

"Your flower. The one you like the most."

"Ah. My favorite flower. Why do you want to know that?" Megan asked, smearing green paint on her pants.

"I thought I could make you some bouquets. There are so many flowers in the garden."

"Won't your husband take it the wrong way?"

Megan had said that as a joke. But Yoonchae didn't laugh. Her expression darkened for a few seconds.

"I don't care about that man. I barely saw him," the duchess said, shaking her head.

"Well... I think it's lily of the valley," the student replied, drawing a few glints in Yoonchae's eyes.

"Lily of the valley?" she repeated.

"It's a flower that blooms in May. You see it when spring arrives. To say goodbye to winter. It’s a rebirth.”

The duchess tilted her head to the side, watching Megan add details to the already complete painting.

The student carefully flicked her brush so that the white paint spread into Yoonchae’s eyes, giving the impression that there were stars between her eyelids. From a distance, the painting resembled a traditional Victorian portrait. But as soon as you got closer to see the details, Megan’s hand was everywhere.

"그림은 이미 완벽한데 왜 세부적인 부분을 더하는 거죠 ?"

"And you? What’s your favorite flower?” the student asked.

“Um… In English, it’s… Pansy?” Yoonchae hesitated, scratching her chin.

“Oh, pansies! They’re such beautiful flowers! I love their colors, so many on just one petal.”

As Megan continued to refine the painting, her mind wandered.

Her painting was almost finished. It was beautiful, sublime, magnificent… no. Yoonchae was all of those things.

But the Duke was returning the next day. And Megan still hadn’t met Charlotte, the real Duchess. Why? If she remembered the caption of the portrait in the museum correctly, Charlotte should have been here.

Megan added the final brushstroke. A last line in Yoonchae’s loose hair, which fell over her shoulders.

 “정말 멋져요! 너무 좋아요! 몇 시간이고 계속 볼 수 있을 것 같아요!” exclaimed the duchess, clapping her hands.

“This is the first time I’ve painted a picture like this. I’m proud of myself,” said Megan, wiping her dirty hands on her t-shirt.

“The painting is finished.”

This sentence tugged at Megan’s heartstrings. She knew Yoonchae’s tone perfectly when she had spoken those words.

It was the same tone she had used in the woods after the play. The tone of someone who wanted to know the truth.

Megan had to keep her promise. She had sworn she would tell her everything after she finished the painting.  She had promised her.

Yoonchae watched the student without a word. She didn't ask the question, even though it burned on her lips. She wouldn't force her to talk. That wasn't Yoonchae. She was curious, but not intrusive. She was respectful, but if her title was a free pass, she had never abused it. She was more of a respectful 17-year-old than a duchess.

Megan slowly rubbed her face. Her heart pounded in her temples, in her wrists, in her eyes. She felt as if it could leap out from anywhere and pounce on Yoonchae.

"I... I want to tell you everything. But I'd like to do something while I tell you the truth," Megan said.

"Tell me," the duchess replied immediately.

"I'd like to paint on you. I've wanted to for a long time. I'd like to paint fields of flowers on your body, and…"

"Okay."

Megan's eyes widened. She hadn't expected convincing the duchess to be so easy. A feeling of unease began to gnaw at her heart.

"Are you sure you understood what I said? I said 'paint on you.' If you didn't understand, I don't want to," she said, running her brush over her own arm as an example.

"I understood. On my… skin," Yoonchae replied, stumbling over the last word.

Megan swallowed hard as she watched the duchess undo her hanbok. Instinctively, she turned her head away, to give Yoonchae some privacy. But she couldn't paint if she wasn't looking at her.

The fabric fell to the floor, forming a clear puddle at the duchess's feet. Megan slowly looked up. She had removed everything except the jade bracelet.

Her heart was pounding wildly.  They were so powerful that she was sure Yoonchae could hear them from wherever she was.

Upon discovering the duchess's naked body, Megan placed a hand on her heart, as if to prevent her from leaving.

She was divine.

Her skin was fair, perfect for the colors Megan wanted to use to paint her flowers. It was smooth, covered with a fine down. Her black hair fell down her back. The student could already imagine gently parting it to reveal her back. Her waist was slender, subtly revealing the bones of her ribcage.

Everything about her exuded purity, tenderness, and gentleness. Megan saw not a single trace of darkness in this woman. Yoonchae was the star of her life. No sun, no comet. An ocean of stars, lost in the body of a single woman.

Yoonchae's cheeks were scarlet.  It was an intimacy unlike anything the two friends had ever experienced. They had seen each other's backs, between the laces of a corset, they had slept together, pressed close to one another.

There was such a gulf between the present situation and everything they had shared.

Yet, Yoonchae, who had her arms pressed against her chest, asked:

"Which flower would you like to... start with?"

This question pulled Megan from her reverie. She raised her head, her eyes fixed on Yoonchae's face.

"Sit down. You'll be more comfortable," Megan advised.

As the duchess sat on the floor, not without first spreading a sheet over the furniture, the student began searching for all her paints, brushes, and other supplies. She took her time.  Not out of fear of having to speak, but because the candlelight was dim and didn't properly illuminate the paint pots.

Megan dipped her brush into the green paint, which resembled the jade of her bracelet.

"If it bothers you, just tell me right away and I'll stop."

"Mmm," Yoonchae nodded.

She wrapped her fingers around the duchess's calf and gently rested her brush on her ankle. The cold paint made Yoonchae shiver. Then, when Megan moved the brush up her wrist, she let out a soft laugh.

"간지러워요."

“It tickles, doesn’t it?”

As the line traveled up to the duchess’s knee, the student took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, then opened them again, gazing into Yoonchae’s.

She was back in her starry ocean, so comforting. This feeling of being immersed in the stars gave her the courage to speak. While drawing the leaves at the base of the stem, she said,

“I come from another world. A distant world. Where everything is different from here.”

She changed brushes, coated it with white paint, and then carefully painted the lily-of-the-valley petals on Yoonchae’s knee.

“For me, everything here is from another time. A bygone time, where its customs no longer exist. These are just memories of a bygone era.”

Megan made a small flick of her wrist that sent a shiver down the duchess’s spine.  She drew her knees up to her chest. With a glance, she made sure everything was alright, wanting permission to continue. Yoonchae nodded.

“I come from a world where cultures no longer stop at borders. They follow people, wherever they go, so they feel at home, even thousands of miles from their own.”

She rubbed her brush against her jeans before leaning closer to Yoonchae’s leg, slipping between her knees.

“People aren’t afraid to leave. They leave because they want to. Not because they’re sold or traded. No one is holding them back.”

“Even… if their family trades them?” Yoonchae asked, leaning to one side, her voice trembling.

“Yes. Even if their family trades them.”

Megan turned to paint on the other calf.  This time, she began to draw the base of a sunflower.

“My mother is from China. My father is from the United States. My mother left China because she believed she could have a better life far away. So, she took a plane and left.”

“A…plane?” the duchess repeated.

Unlike usual, Megan didn’t bother to explain. She wanted to savor this moment suspended in time. She continued to paint the petals around Yoonchae’s knee.

“She met my father there. She fell in love with him. I think. They got married. But there was no agreement between their families. It wasn’t a marriage to formalize exchanges between two countries. They got married because they wanted to.”

"그리고 그들의 가족들은 아무 말도 하지 않았나요 ?"

Once the sunflower was finished, she picked up her green brush and painted the entire length of Yoonchae's thigh.

"I was born a few years after their wedding. I grew up happy," Megan continued, mixing two colors to get the perfect shade for camellias.

"What flower are you drawing?"

"Camellias. They represent the longevity of a loving bond."

As she carefully traced the shape of the flowers, Megan's vision blurred. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

"After I was born, their happiness... deteriorated. They argued. They shouted at each other often. All the time, even. And my mother ended up leaving. Because she could."

She quickly rubbed her eye. A tear rolled down her index finger and fell into the paint.

"She left. While she was married, a mother, a friend, an employee. She left. Nothing was keeping her here, in the end,” Megan continued, her voice breaking on the last word.

“Mei-yok… you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to…” Yoonchae said.

The duchess placed her hand on Megan’s cheek, and Megan leaned on it. A tear rolled down her cheek and fell into Yoonchae’s palm. Slowly, she ran her thumb across her friend’s cheek to wipe away the tear.

“She went back home to China. She’s happy, I suppose. Where I come from, happiness doesn’t come from others; it comes from within and from one’s own decisions.”

Megan sniffed as she looked up at Yoonchae’s face. The duchess’s eyelids trembled, as if she were holding back tears.  She could see shooting stars streaking across the corner of her eye.

She let out a small sigh, half amused and half melancholic, before placing her hand on Yoonchae's and tenderly kissing her palm.

Her brush moved over her pubic area. Reaching her stomach, Megan changed brushes. She chose a lighter color, close to pink, if she could tell in the dark.

Almost lying between Yoonchae's legs, the brush traced the outline of a lotus flower.

"I come from a world where people meet because they are meant to. Not because they are forced to."

As she painted each petal, Megan smiled.

"My friends come from all over the world. And that's perfectly normal. No one looks at them askance because they belong, no matter where they go."

The student's heart sank at these words.  She almost felt like she was lying. Some people would always be against her friends, or even Megan, being on American soil. But she didn't want to destroy the strength of her world around Yoonchae. The love they shared had never been stronger than it had been during Megan's time.

"Differences aren't weird. They're normal. Ordinary."

"Differences?" Yoonchae repeated.

Reaching the level of her breasts, Megan bit her lower lip. Seeing the student's discomfort, the duchess straightened up, revealing more of her chest to allow Megan to continue. Once again, she asked her friend's consent, who nodded nervously.

When the brush touched the skin of her nipple, Yoonchae shivered. A small sigh escaped her lips. Megan trembled before turning her wrist to form a rose.

"I'm ordinary where I live. I'm white and Asian, but no one has stared at me for it. No one has tried to reject me. I'm just like any other girl."

The student slowly traced the pistil over Yoonchae's nipple. The duchess nervously gripped Megan's t-shirt, sighing. She looked up.

"Do you want to continue?"

"Yes. Tell me about your world,” Yoonchae pleaded.

Megan sat up. Between the duchess’s thighs, she made quick brushstrokes, painting the stems of the lavender flowers on her chest. While sketching the calyxes, she continued:

“My world is so different from this one. This one is so fearful, afraid of everything. No one turns to the stranger, for fear of getting lost.”

Megan’s eyes left the lavender flowers for a moment to look at Yoonchae.

Her face was so close, their noses almost touching. The duchess’s eyes never left her attendant’s lips. Megan could no longer tear her gaze away from Yoonchae’s.

She could see everything, understand everything in her eyes. She understood her pain, her tenderness, her sadness, and her gentleness. She saw every star burning for her, every flame leaving her eyes to show her love.

Megan felt Yoonchae's breath against her lips. If she came any closer…

Leaning against her, she could feel the duchess's heartbeat against her chest. It was beating so strongly it sounded like a drum. For a moment, Megan almost thought their heartbeats had synchronized.

Then, the student looked down to continue her work. She gestured for Yoonchae to tilt her head back. She obeyed and raised her chin. Slowly, her brush traced the shape of a pansy. The flower's petals were purple, with a touch of yellow near the center.

"I love my world. And I think you would like it here. I know you would feel more at peace," Megan continued.

"Why?" Yoonchae asked.

She lowered her head, preventing her companion from continuing to paint. Their faces were close again.  Yoonchae's hair slipped from behind her ear and tickled Megan's cheek.

The duchess's chest rose and fell with her breath. She was breathing fast, as if she couldn't get enough air. Megan placed her brush on the palette and moved it away from Yoonchae.

It was no longer about flowers or paint. It was about the two of them. And about what Megan wanted to do at that precise moment.

Yoonchae nervously bit her lower lip. With each deep breath, her chest pressed against Megan's. Paint was staining the student's t-shirt, which wasn't so white anymore anyway.

Megan moved a little closer. Their lips were almost touching. Yoonchae never took her eyes off her friend's. Sometimes, she looked up, almost begging her to take the next step.

The universe was so vast in Yoonchae's eyes. Megan only understood that now. It wasn't just a matter of distance, but also of time. Every passing second drastically altered the universe. Every second lost was irretrievable, no matter where she went. The stars were merely a countdown to the time they had left. And Megan saw only one: Yoonchae.

She leaned forward. Their lips touched. Timidly. Quickly. Just for a second. A simple contact, as if to warn of what was to come.

As Megan was about to pull away, Yoonchae suddenly grabbed her t-shirt and pulled her close. She plunged into another kiss, clutching the fabric in her hand. There was no way she was going to let her escape.

This was the permission Megan needed. She slid her hands down Yoonchae's waist and dug her fingers in. The duchess sighed before pressing her lips to Megan's again.

The student leaned in, deepening the kiss. Yoonchae tilted her head, running a hand through her friend's hair, giving her permission to go further. When her wrist rested against the back of her neck, Megan felt the coolness of the jade bracelet against her skin.  She slowly moved her right hand up, caressing the duchess's ribs.

Their lips moved against each other. It was tender, delicate. They weren't rushing. They were savoring every movement, every sensation. Each time one's lips brushed against the other's, they paused for a second before plunging back into another kiss, each one more intense than the last.

Feeling Yoonchae's body against hers, her hands in her hair, her breath on her face—it was everything Megan had dreamed of. For weeks, the feeling that haunted her was nothing but the desire for it all to come true.

Megan finally stepped back to catch her breath. Her hands never left Yoonchae's body. The duchess moved her hands up her attendant's cheeks, framing her face. She wouldn't let her go. Never again.

“In my world, girls like us aren’t afraid to hold hands. They aren’t afraid to kiss…”

As she said this, Megan leaned in for another kiss, which Yoonchae gladly accepted. As she pressed her lips to the duchess’s, she continued:

“Girls like us can get married, if they want, wherever they want. Without fearing the judgment of others.”

“Mei-yok…”

“They can live together, without anyone watching them. Just the two of them, go out whenever they want without getting in trouble.”

As if to silence Megan, Yoonchae tugged at her t-shirt, ordering another kiss. The student accepted, leaning in. The duchess pressed herself against her, smearing the body paint onto the other girl’s clothes.

“I want to take you with me, Yoonchae. I want it so badly,” Megan murmured between kisses.

The duchess sighed against the student’s lips before stepping back. She paused for a few seconds to catch her breath (perhaps using those moments to collect herself), her hands resting on Megan’s shoulders.

“Mei-yok. Can I tell you a secret?” Yoonchae asked, snuggling up to Megan and clutching her t-shirt.

“Of course,” she replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

The duchess nestled her head against Megan’s neck, placing a tender kiss on her skin before closing her eyes.

“I don’t want this life…” she whispered.

Megan ran her hands down Yoonchae’s back, gently caressing her skin with her thumbs.

“I don’t want this name. I don’t want this man. I don’t want this title. I don’t want this culture.”

A sniffle echoed through the room. The student moved her right hand up into the duchess’s hair to reassure her and pull her closer.

 “너와 함께 도망치고 싶어.  바닷가에 있는 집에서 살고 싶어."

A tear rolled down her cheek.  She rested her cheek on Megan's chest, tears falling into her t-shirt.

 “당신의 세상을 보고 싶어요.  당신의 손을 잡고 싶어요.  친구처럼이 아니라, 연인처럼요."

She sniffed.  Time to catch her breath, she wiped away her tears.

“당신의 세상에서 당신을 만나고 싶어요.  당신의 세상에서 당신과 사랑에 빠지고 싶어요.  그리고 당신과 결혼하고 싶어요…”

 Even though she didn't understand a word Yoonchae was saying, Megan started crying.  Hearing the duchess' broken voice broke his heart.  Her tears fell into her black hair before sliding down her bare skin. 

“Let’s go. Let’s get out of here. We can still leave,” Megan said then, almost pleadingly.

“And the Duke? What if he finds us…?”

“I don’t care about the Duke. He’s not coming back until tomorrow. We still have tonight to escape. To make our own way in life. Just the two of us. To see other worlds.”

Yoonchae sniffed. Tears flowed again. But these were different. They fell with peace, joy, relief.

She nodded before saying,

“Yes… Let’s go. 나는 당신과 함께 떠나서 남은 생을 당신과 함께 살고 싶어요.”

Megan smiled.

Everything made sense now.

She understood the picture.

This was Charlotte. She was the Duke's new wife. Because Yoonchae and Megan were going to run away. They would leave the Cleveland estate, without looking back.

They would live by the sea, in an abandoned house they would rebuild as their home. They would abandon all those dresses, those corsets, those customs, and that nobility.

They would leave. Perhaps Megan would never return home. But if that was the price to live with Yoonchae, she was ready to pay it.

That was why no one knew Charlotte. She hadn't arrived yet. She would be the Duke's wife, the one he would find to replace Yoonchae when he discovered she was gone.

"Come. Let's hurry, pack our bags, and leave," Megan advised, pulling the young woman close. 

Nestled against his chest, Yoonchae nodded. After a few tender kisses in the last flickers of candlelight, the room plunged into darkness.

But this time the moon did not light their way.

~~~~

“They put a crown on her head. It’s only ‘cause she’s dead.”

“MEGAN!!”

The student jumped at the sound of the shout. She heard it through her headphones.

Before her, Lara, Sophia, Daniela, and Manon were kneeling in the grass. Recognizing her friends’ faces, Megan’s heart skipped a beat.

If they were here… Where was Yoonchae?

She looked around, ignoring her friends trying to talk to her. She was back in the park, at the foot of her tree. Before her, the blue ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, growing darker and darker as the sun set. She was back in her own time.

The music playing in her Bluetooth headphones quickly became a source of anxiety for Megan. She took them off, finally hearing the sound of her friends’ voices.

“Megan, are you okay?” Sophia asked, squeezing her friend’s arm.

“Why did you leave the museum? Were you fed up with us?” added Daniela.

“You know you can tell us if anything’s wrong,” said Manon, gently taking Megan’s hands in hers.

“Where is she?”

That was the only question Megan could ask. She didn’t care about anything else: how she’d gotten home, what time it was, how she’d gotten her things back…

She just wanted to know where Yoonchae was.

She had promised to run away with her. To take her to her world. She hadn’t been able to leave the 19th century without her.

Yet, looking around, there was no one else but her friends.

“Are you talking about Lara? She’s coming, she went to the other side of the park,” Sophia reassured her.

“You know her, and her sense of direction,” Manon joked.

 “No, not Lara.”

Megan stood up, digging her hands into the dirt. She didn’t care about getting her clothes dirty. They were already covered in paint and…

She looked down at her t-shirt. It was pristine white, not a single stain. And the same was true of her pants, except for the grass stain she’d just gotten as she stood up.

“Impossible. I’ve had them covered in paint for days…” she thought.

They had been stained when she’d held Yoonchae close during their kiss. But there was nothing left. Not a trace.

She looked at her hands, also clean as if they’d just been washed.

“No… no, no, no…” Megan murmured, tugging at her clothes to find the slightest stain.

“Hey, Meg! What happened to you?” asked Lara, who had just joined the group. 

“She’s looking for someone who isn’t you,” Manon replied, crossing her arms.

“Um, right now, she looks like she’s looking for her keys.”

The student looked around, desperately searching for Yoonchae’s dark hair, or her slender figure. She longed to see his face again, to cup his hands in hers and kiss him. To feel his skin against her fingers, his breath on her lips, his gentleness in every movement.

Megan took a few panicked steps in the park. It was almost empty now. The children had gone home to bed. The people who remained were adults returning from work.

“Where is she?”

Suddenly, Megan had a revelation.

Charlotte’s portrait.

There had to be an answer in the Duchess of Cleveland’s portrait. Without even looking back, she headed for the museum.

“Where are you going?!” Dani shouted.

“Megan!” Sophia called.

Megan was running. She wanted to find Yoonchae; she had to be with her.

It had to be that. But she must not have landed in the same place as her.

Yoonchae must have left. Because Charlotte was there. Megan had started to feel strange during her embrace with her friend, as if all the light in the world had gone out. It was like when she had fallen asleep and found herself in the 19th century. Yoonchae was in her arms then, held close, surrounded by all of Megan’s warmth and love.  She had been brought along.

“I can’t leave her alone in the 21st century. She’d be lost. I have to find her.”

As she ran toward the museum, the student looked around. She hoped to recognize Yoonchae walking down a street, looking for her.

On her way to the museum, she didn’t see anyone who looked like her. Oh well, she would have to search on her own. As she passed through the museum doors, the receptionist stood up.

“Megan, the museum closes soon,” she warned.

“I know, Emilia, I know.”

Megan swiped her badge against the scanner at the gate and entered the museum.

The gallery seemed different. Not because the organization had changed, but because Megan wasn’t looking for the same things anymore. Before, she only visited the mythology wing, which never changed but always reassured her.  Everything was too small, too short: there weren't enough explanations, sculptures, or engravings. Now, the aisles seemed far too long. With every step, Megan felt like she was wasting time.

Her soles creaked against the polished parquet floor, and each creak echoed through the now deserted museum. She made sure to turn left to reach the room dedicated to Victorian antiquities. As soon as she entered, she hurried toward the painting.

She had only seen this portrait once, and by pure chance, only because the museum's new layout had forced her to pass by. Yet, she could return to this spot with her eyes closed, as if she knew the way by heart.

As she rounded a final corner, the student caught sight of the portrait's frame. A smile spread across her lips. She was about to find a clue to Yoonchae. She was bound to see some detail that would give her more information about her location, or how to reach her.

 Her heart pounded at the thought of holding her in her arms again. Of kissing her again. She imagined all the things they could do together. Megan would show her every version of Romeo and Juliet from that era, from the most classic to the most bizarre. They would go shopping together, and she would be happy to wear any dress Yoonchae liked. She would buy them all, without exception.

They would read books. Lots of books. Easier to understand than Hamlet, that was for sure. Megan had a huge stack of books lying on her nightstand. She could motivate herself to finish it if Yoonchae had her head on her shoulder while she read.

Megan slowed down. Her footsteps echoed through the museum, each echo separated by several seconds. She arrived in front of the painting.

In front of her painting.

It hadn't even taken her a second to recognize the portrait she had finished just a few centuries ago.

Everything was there. The woman's pose, turned three-quarters towards the sun. Her legs straight, knees aligned. The color of her clothes, peachy pink. The sunlight illuminating the woman's eyes, revealing thousands of stars.

But it was no longer Yoonchae. It was another woman, with new clothes, a new face, a new skin tone, a new expression. The respectful smile had given way to profound sadness, her lips bitten with regret.

Megan couldn't believe her eyes. It was her painting. But she had never painted this woman. She had depicted Yoonchae, smiling, in a hanbok. Not this white woman, sad, in a Victorian dress.

She then reached for the plaque next to the painting to reread the caption.  Her fingers gripped the piece of clear plastic as her eyes scanned each word.

Portrait of Duchess Charlotte Cleveland, 1859. Wife of Auguste Cleveland.

This portrait was painted after her eight-year journey around the world. The Duchess died three years later of tuberculosis, at the age of twenty-eight.

Artist unknown.

It was still Charlotte. Nothing had changed.

Megan's heart pounded in her chest, panicked. This was her painting. This was what Megan had painted for weeks. So why was there another woman in Yoonchae's place?

The student took a step back to straighten up and breathe. She had to calm herself, focus on her breathing, not give in to panic.

The moment her right foot touched the floor, Megan noticed something.

A green detail on Charlotte's wrist.

Jade green.

Charlotte was wearing Megan's bracelet.  She recognized it; she knew it was hers: two dragons were engraved on the bracelet. And one of them was blind because of a scratch on its eye.

Megan instinctively looked at her wrist. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that she was no longer wearing her jade bracelet, but the knotted one Yoonchae had given her. She had never gotten her own back. She had kept her friend's. She had returned to the 21st century with proof of Yoonchae's existence.

She approached the painting to examine the bracelet, just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating, that she wasn't seeing dragons because she wanted to see them. As she looked at the painting, something unusual struck her.

The paint was thick. As if there were several layers.

As if it had been painted over.

 Megan's heart, which had been racing just seconds ago, stopped dead when she understood.

She wanted to be wrong. She wanted to be wrong, wrong about every single idea that popped into her head. She couldn't even think straight anymore; the words wouldn't form in her mind, so chaotic had her heartbeat become.

She went back to the plaque. A QR code was printed in the bottom right corner for those who wanted more information about the portrait.

After scanning the code, a page opened on her phone. Everything seemed fake. Everything Megan read sounded hollow, as if the person who wrote the article knew nothing about it.

Charlotte Cleveland

The Duchess of Cleveland is a mysterious figure. Few people knew of her before her public appearance as the wife of Duke August Cleveland.

We also have little information about her childhood.  We have no information about her birthday, place of birth, or even her maiden name. We know she spoke English awkwardly, which might suggest she wasn't born in England. It's after her marriage that she reappears in the Cleveland family's official records.

Charlotte was an explorer. Despite her marriage to the Duke, she traveled for almost eight years in China and the United States. She explored both countries during those six years. Rumors, originating from women living at the Cleveland estate, claimed she was searching for treasure. This information should be treated with caution, however. We haven't found any writings by the Duchess herself, making it impossible to determine the purpose of these journeys.

After eight years traveling the globe, Charlotte returned to the estate. She gave birth to four children. None survived to adulthood; the eldest was Alan, who died at the age of one and a half.

Charlotte returned ill from her travels.  After a fierce battle, she finally died of tuberculosis on February 10, 1862, at the age of 28.

Impossible.

Too many coincidences. Megan couldn't believe it.

She looked up from her screen, tears blurring her vision. She stared at Duchess Charlotte's face. She saw the tear that had been forever falling down her cheek, her lips chapped.

Duchess Charlotte had a dark, unknown past. As if no one had ever encountered it on the estate before.

She spoke broken English, as if she came from another, distant land. Like Joseon, for example.

She had traveled to China and the United States. Exactly where Megan came from, as she had told Yoonchae so many times.

Then she had returned to the estate, only to die on Megan's birthday.

Tears streamed down the student's cheeks. Her eyes never left Charlotte's face.

She wanted to believe it was the tears and panic that were distorting her vision.  But still, despite the white skin and round eyes, she saw Yoonchae.

"I don't want that name," Yoonchae had said.

That name was Charlotte. Yoonchae was Charlotte.

Megan had been completely wrong, every single time. She had never brought the Duchess with her back then. She had abandoned her.

She had been transformed, stretched, bleached, destroyed. The Duke had come to kill Yoonchae to make her something acceptable in the eyes of British society.

He had stolen everything from her. He had taken her name, her identity, her culture, her skin color, her clothes, her feelings, her smile. Yoonchae was nothing more than a broken woman on that canvas. He had killed her so he could finally call her Duchess.

And Megan had had her work stolen. There was no anonymous artist behind the painting of that portrait.  There was Megan Mei-yok Skiendiel. Someone had gone back over her painting and erased her muse. They had made Yoonchae white, torn off her hanbok, removed her smile and hidden it behind precious stones. They had stolen her culture, her talent, her efforts, her name, her credibility. With each layer of paint that killed Yoonchae, Megan became nothing more than an anonymous figure, even though she had been the duchess's lady-in-waiting, her friend, her tutor, her lover.

Looking at the portrait, Megan realized everything. These people had taken everything from her. The duke had taken everything, the man who had painted over her portrait had taken everything. They had taken everything. Absolutely everything.

She could no longer see the love she had poured into every brushstroke of that portrait. There was only Yoonchae's sadness. A tear that would fall until that portrait was destroyed.  No one would ever see Yoonchae the way Megan had.

The girl who loved fashion, walks in gardens, drawing, animals, musical instruments, and plays. She was disappearing, dying in oblivion under this false name, given to her by her husband. Megan didn't want this to be the last memory of her friend.

It was too much. Impossible to remain calm in the face of this massacre, this savagery in the colors of flowers, this dazzling theft from Yoonchae's neck.

"It's not true. It's not true. It's not true," Megan repeated nervously, tears streaming down her face.

She gave in. Anger flooded her body, hatred seized control of her muscles, rage drove her mad. She couldn't even speak. Men she had never met had just destroyed her life, destroyed her dreams, destroyed her future, destroyed her love, destroyed everything. 

Megan grabbed the plaque and tried to tear it from the wall. She refused to let Yoonchae bear the name Charlotte, to let anyone appreciate this life she had never wanted. Her hands snapped the plastic plaque in two. Pieces flew, falling to the floor.

The noises alerted the museum guards.

"Hey, Carl, come here!" one of them shouted.

"What? Phil, what's going on?" asked the other.

Seeing the student destroying the information plaque, the guards rushed toward her.

"What are you doing?! Stop immediately!" Carl ordered, seeing that Megan was still breaking the pieces of plastic in her hands.

"It's wrong! Everything written on it is wrong! Her name is Yoonchae, not Charlotte! It's wrong!"

Phil grabbed the student by the shoulders as Carl removed the remnants of the plaque. Megan was using so much force to break through the lies that her hands were bleeding. Pieces of plastic were embedded in her flesh, turning red. Blood trickled down her wrists, staining Yoonchae’s black and gold bracelet.

“Calm down!” Phil shouted, tightening his grip on Megan.

“It’s not true! I can’t take this! It’s not her!” she screamed, sobbing.

As the two guards dragged the student outside, she glanced one last time at Yoonchae’s portrait. She saw her tear fall to the floor. Or were they Megan’s?

~~~~

Megan sat on the museum bench. Elbows resting on her knees, she gazed at Yoonchae's portrait.

She wanted to paint over the lie, but her hands ached too much. She couldn't even hold a pencil in her hands, the pain was so intense. She had tried, even to the point of drawing blood, reopening her wounds. But everyone stopped her.

So, all she could do was weep as she watched Yoonchae's tear. Every second, she hoped it would fall, that the duchess would step out of the painting, remove the mask, and embrace her. But the painting never moved. Megan stared at it for hours, but not a single hair fell from behind Yoonchae's ear.

Sometimes, when the duchess's gaze became too much to bear, when the pain was unbearable, Megan would look down at her wrist and stroke the knotted bracelet.  It was the only thing that didn't hurt her as much as the portrait.

The museum visitors wondered. Why was this young woman crying over a painting of this duchess? They would never understand. They never would.

Every time Megan came to the museum, the two guards who had arrested her watched her. It brought back memories. It was exactly like her walks in the gardens with Yoonchae.

That day, the museum was deserted. There weren't many people. Just Megan and her painting. Yet, footsteps echoed. The student didn't take her eyes off the woman in front of her.

Four girls sat down on the bench next to Megan. Sophia offered her friend a round peach.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi," replied the student, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

 “How are you?” Manon asked.

“Fine.”

“Not to us, Meg. What’s wrong?” Lara asked, gently stroking her friend’s back.

“Nothing. Nothing important,” Megan lied, looking down at the peach Sophia was holding out to her.

“Nothing important?” Daniela repeated. “Megan, you cut your hands tearing the panel off that picture.”

“I don’t think you’re okay,” Sophia continued.

“I…”

Megan’s voice broke. She immediately lowered her head, ashamed. Tears began to fall, splattering onto the fruit. She nervously ran a hand through her hair. Sophia removed her hand and wiped the peach with her thumb.

“I’m sorry…” the student apologized, sniffing.

 “Megan, you don’t need to apologize for anything,” Manon immediately interjected, standing up and gently taking Megan’s hands in hers.

“We know your parents’ separation is hard to deal with… but we think this is something else,” Sophia said, placing her hand on her friend’s arm and stroking it with her thumb.

“I… I can’t explain,” Megan cried, almost choking on her tears. “You won’t understand.”

The four friends exchanged a glance as Megan sobbed. Dani stood up, leaned against Megan’s back, and wrapped her arms around her.

“We might not understand. But we can always listen. At least there’s that,” Daniela reassured her.

“I… I can’t…” Megan repeated, squeezing Dani’s arm between her fingers.

“It’s okay. Just let it all out. Anything you want. And we'll listen," Lara said.

The student tried to swallow her tears, to hold her head high in front of her friends. But she couldn't keep up appearances. She burst into sobs, falling forward. Her friends caught her.

~~~~

Megan left the museum at closing time. Her friends had stayed with her most of the time. Then, each of them finally left to go home. They had promised they would be there for Megan no matter what, at any time.

Sophia was the last to leave. She gently kissed her friend's forehead before going.

"Maybe you shouldn't go back to the museum tomorrow," she advised.

It was silly. Megan refused to go anywhere else, to spend a single minute anywhere but with Yoonchae. Yet, her heart ached every time she saw Charlotte. She saw her friend, but she also saw this charade, this lie she would never be able to destroy. Megan couldn't burn this canvas. She still remembered everything she had felt with each stroke, each brushstroke, each application of paint.  She couldn't burn away all the emotions she'd used to portray Yoonchae, even if everything had been distorted. She wanted to scrape away that layer of paint to reveal the duchess's true smile.

Yet that evening, as she left the museum, the breeze gently caressed her face, and Megan thought she could walk by the beach. She usually hated going to the sea. It was always flat, blue, nothing ever changed when there was no sun. She didn't like the salty smell, the damp breath that ruffled her hair. She didn't like the horizon, which reminded her of her future: a bland future, without love, without parents to support her or anyone to understand her.

Despair finally convinced her. She didn't want to go home either. The emptiness would always be the same, no matter where she went. She would never again feel whole. So, without any conviction, Megan headed toward the beach.

The sun had long since set. Streetlights illuminated the path to the seaside. As you stepped over the puddles, they almost looked like stars.

Megan descended the steps to the sand. She gritted her teeth as she felt her shoes sink into the ground. Despite the wet sand, she took off her shoes and socks, carrying them in her hand.

She approached the water. The foam coated her feet, washing away the sand clinging to her skin. One hand in her sweatshirt pocket, the other dangling in mid-air, Megan gazed at the dark horizon stretching before her. The wind whipped across her face. She took a deep breath, praying to feel whole again. She wanted the salt to fill every hole in her heart. But when she exhaled, everything was still there, perfectly in place, the pain clinging to her.

The tears had stopped falling on Megan's cheeks. They had all fallen before Yoonchae's portrait. Her eyes were so tired, Megan could have dove into the water and fallen asleep.

A wave splashed at her feet. Laughter rang out. It wasn't Megan.

"엄마, 그만해! 내 티셔츠 더럽히고 싶지 않아!"

Dozens of meters away, a family was laughing. Megan could hear phrases in Korean. A mother and daughter were playing in the water, trying to splash each other. Further back, the father was filming with a pocket camera. Behind him, a girl gazed at the sea, her hands in her pockets.

The wind blew through her dark hair, making it float behind her head.  Her eyes were dark, they hadn't shone for months, perhaps even centuries. Being with her family offered no solace to the young woman, who didn't even bother to watch them having fun. Her gaze remained fixed on the ocean. Perhaps she hoped to see something on the horizon. A melancholy sigh escaped her lips.

Megan watched the girl.

She couldn't believe her eyes.

Her eyelids trembled just looking at her. Even though her eyes were no longer capable of it, painful tears welled up. Her heart began to beat again, having stopped since she had seen Charlotte's portrait again.

Megan desperately tried to say something to get the girl's attention. Her lips trembled, her throat tightened with each syllable that tried to escape her lips.

 “자, 이제 집에 가야지,” said the father, putting the camera back in his pocket.

The mother and daughter emerged from the water, laughing. The woman approached her second daughter. She tried to touch her, but the girl immediately recoiled, refusing any contact. She went first toward the stairs to leave the beach.

Megan watched her, helpless. Her legs could no longer support her. Her hands ached, as if the sand were digging into her wounds. She tried to take a step, but nearly fell. She caught herself on her knees.

The words failed her. She was no longer able to form coherent sentences, so great was the shock.

The girl placed her foot on the first step of the stairs. She was going to leave. Megan couldn't let this go.  With all her might, as much as her body would allow, she sobbed:

"Yoonchae…"

The wind blew sharply, stifling her whisper. Sand flew, obscuring Megan's view. The moment it settled, everything would vanish.

When the wind died down, Megan looked up. The girl was still there. Her foot still on the first step of the stairs, she stared at Megan.

Her eyes shone.

Megan recognized her. It was her. She was there. At the other end of the beach.

The girl she had loved. The one she had found sublime beneath the weeping willow. The one with whom she had discussed the existence of mixed-race people, ducks, and cats. The one to whom she had taught English, the Latin alphabet. The one to whom she had read Hamlet, the one she had taken to see Romeo and Juliet. The one she had painted, the one who had served as the canvas for her field of flowers.

The one she had kissed desperately, as if it were the last thing keeping her alive. The one to whom she had promised to run away with her. The one she had abandoned against her will.

She had seen her from every angle, in every mood, in all her outfits and without them. She knew her by heart.  She could touch her hair and trace the perfect path with her fingers to pull her close.

Yoonchae.

Megan lunged forward. Her shoes slid into the sand. She refused to let her go. She couldn't abandon her again. The girl at the far end of the beach started running toward Megan. She ran as if she were trying to win a race. As if crossing the finish line was the only thing that mattered.

Despite the wind and the sound of the waves, the clinking of a jade bracelet echoed across the beach.

Light drops trickled down Megan's cheeks. They were probably droplets of seawater, but she knew she was crying too.

As the student approached the girl, memories flooded back to her.  Yoonchae's laughter, her questions, her glances, her smiles, her teasing, her drawings, her tears, her silences. Everything was still imprinted on her skin, like flower petals.

The girl finally caught up with Megan. She was crying too. Stars streamed down her cheeks. It wasn't the light from the streetlamps; it was the stars in her eyes escaping. Her eyes shone as if the stars had just created their first ray.

She grasped Megan's elbows and squeezed them tightly between her fingers to make sure she was real. Running her bandaged hands over her arms, the student felt the coolness of her jade bracelet. Her thumb discreetly traced the engravings of the two dragons.

There were no words strong enough to describe what Megan was feeling. This feeling of completeness was so powerful it could bring tears to her eyes.  She had found the source of her inspiration, her muse, her friend, her love, even though centuries separated them. She longed to lean down, to take her in her arms, and never let her go.

The girl suddenly placed her hands on Megan's cheeks. Perhaps a little roughly, but she could see that Megan was struggling to remain calm.

She looked at the student as if she were a treasure she had searched for for years, as if she had turned the earth upside down to find her.

A laugh escaped her. Two bursts of laughter, which made Megan want to explode with joy just hearing them.

"너였구나, 정말 너였어, 메이욕," she said, as her thumbs slowly caressed Megan's cheeks.

"What?" Megan asked, sobbing.

"It's you... the girl of my dreams. Mei-yok."