Chapter Text
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No residence on this street commanded greater prestige or awe.
The vermilion gates stood firmly shut, their blue-green glazed tiles muted under the fading dusk, robbed of their daylight brilliance and swallowed by deep shadow. The towering grey walls were immaculate, not a single weed daring to crest their edge, yet crows frequently lined the top like iron nails hammered into the sky. Passersby instinctively lowered their voices and quickened their steps. The lengthy official titles once praised in the markets had long been reduced to three simple words: the General’s Manor.
A modest sedan chair turned the corner. Its bearers, dressed in neat but faded blue short robes, moved at a brisk trot. Yet the chair barely swayed — the mark of servants long trained in attending nobility. They did not pause at the main gate, instead slipping down a narrow side alley barely wide enough for one chair. High walls pressed close on either side, plunging the path into deepening gloom.
At the end of the lane stood the side gate. Modest and without a plaque, its stone threshold was worn smooth by years of use. Two gate servants, clearly forewarned, silently pulled open one panel as the sedan approached.
The curtain lifted. A slender hand emerged first — pale as fine porcelain — followed by a moon-white silk sleeve embroidered with delicate pomegranate blossoms and edged in silver thread. The young man ducked gracefully out of the chair. Yongbok straightened, his eyes sweeping the surroundings. The walls soared high, narrowing the sky to a thin strip above. Twilight pressed down like an iron cauldron. He pressed his lips together briefly before lowering his lashes.
A senior stewardess awaited him. Elderly, impeccably robed, and holding herself with quiet dignity, she clearly held high status among the household servants. Unlike the gatekeepers, she did not avert her eyes. She bowed with measured respect, her gaze resting politely at Yongbok’s collarbone.
“Please follow me.”
Yongbok stepped through the side gate. Behind him came the soft scrape of the bearers’ boots on bluestone as they carried the empty sedan away. The gate clicked shut with finality. Ahead stretched a long covered corridor with whitewashed walls and grey-tiled eaves. Small doorways branched off at intervals, some closed, some slightly ajar, offering only fleeting glimpses of distant trees and pillars. Servants coming from the opposite direction flattened themselves against the wall and bowed their heads, waiting until he passed before continuing their tasks. No one dared steal a glance.
He had heard only fragments about the Omega already residing here. Rumors claimed the General’s lawfully wedded consort came from humble borderland origins, had borne several children, and rarely appeared at official gatherings — signs that he was not greatly favored. Yongbok knew nothing of Lee Minho’s age or appearance. Those who whispered either possessed no real information or simply knew better than to pry into the private affairs of the General’s household.
The corridor eventually opened into a spacious courtyard. Less ostentatious than the outer compound, it was elegantly arranged with carefully tended flora, artistic rockeries, and a gentle winding stream. To the north stood a row of buildings with freshly painted doorframes. Silk lanterns adorned with orchid motifs hung along the veranda, casting soft, warm light into the gathering night.
The stewardess halted and stepped aside. “These will be your quarters. Instruct the servants if you require anything.”
Yongbok paused at the courtyard entrance, watching a lantern sway gently in the breeze, before crossing the threshold.
He noticed immediately that nearly all the female servants in the inner quarters were Betas. They carried no strong personal pheromones, only a faint orchid fragrance woven into their cuffs, collars, and hair ornaments — light and ethereal, like mist drifting from deep mountain valleys.
He had scarcely settled in the main hall when two maids of similar age emerged from behind a folding screen and bowed in unison.
“Greetings, young master.”
The round-faced maid on the left smiled first, revealing shallow dimples. Her ash-grey hanbok skirt was embroidered with half-blooming peach blossoms. “This servant is Yeongsun. This is Okjeong.”
Okjeong bowed gracefully. Slender and delicate, she resembled an ink-wash painting brought to life. Yongbok nodded faintly from his seat, his gaze passing over them before drifting toward the faint silhouettes of servants moving outside.
Yeongsun, clearly the more talkative one, knelt nimbly to pour tea. “This year I am twenty, same as Okjeong. The General personally selected us to serve only you.” She offered the teacup with both hands. “Rest assured, the General holds you in high regard. Your provisions match those of the East Courtyard in every respect.”
Okjeong coughed softly, but Yeongsun couldn’t resist adding in a hushed voice, “The younger maids outside were sent by the consort of the East Courtyard. They are only fourteen or fifteen. Leave the menial tasks to them. For important matters, come to us.”
Yongbok lifted the teacup and took a slow sip. The tea was excellent — clear amber with a lingering sweet aftertaste. Setting it down, he asked calmly, “Where is Stewardess Tian?”
Yeongsun’s eyes brightened. “You have already met her, young master?”
“On the way here.”
“Stewardess Tian is Manager Zhou’s wife. She does not live in the inner quarters,” Yeongsun explained. “She manages all your external affairs — when you may leave the manor, your destinations, the size of your retinue, and which guests you may receive.” Her voice dropped again. “She is strict, but she will grant any reasonable request.”
Yongbok nodded and turned the teacup slowly in his hands. Silence settled over the hall as dusk seeped through the window lattice. Yeongsun moved forward to light the candles. Their flickering flames stretched and twisted the shadows across the walls.
Yongbok spoke suddenly, choosing his words with care. “When would it be appropriate for me to pay my respects to the General’s consort?”
Both maids froze.
“You mean the Manor Mistress,” Yeongsun recovered first. “The General has already petitioned the royal court for a new title on his behalf, though the imperial edict has not yet arrived. For a common-born consort to receive the rank of Township Mistress… it shows how highly the King regards our General.”
Okjeong interjected gently, “The Manor Mistress’s name is Lee Minho. He comes from the northern borderlands and is gentle by nature. He has managed the household well and does not mistreat servants. You may address him as elder brother.” She hesitated, brows drawing together slightly. “However… the Manor Mistress is not in a state to receive visitors at present.”
Yongbok remained silent. Yeongsun leaned in and whispered, “The Manor Mistress gave birth to a baby girl only yesterday. He has not yet regained his strength.”
A newborn daughter. Yongbok lowered his gaze. Before entering the manor, he had heard rumors of Minho’s disfavor and recent pregnancy, but he had not expected to be brought in so soon after the birth.
Coincidence? Or deliberate timing? Regardless, no Omega would welcome a new arrival immediately after childbirth.
“I will pay my respects another day,” Yongbok said quietly.
Both maids exhaled in visible relief. After a moment, Yongbok changed the subject. “When will the General arrive?”
A candle flame flickered. Yeongsun’s usual liveliness faded into careful deference. “The General will certainly come tonight.”
Yongbok drained the remaining cold tea in one swallow and rose. “Prepare bathwater for me.”
The two maids bowed and withdrew. Alone in the hall, Yongbok watched his solitary shadow stretch long across the stone floor and let out a soft, bitter laugh. All the refined etiquette and survival skills he had been taught over the years would now be put to the test within these walls.
Outside, the orchid painted on the silk lantern swayed in the candlelight — beautiful, yet forever trapped in silk, unable to fly free.