It was the year of 1882, exactly two years after Woohyun and Hyunmi had gotten engaged. The elation was to be shared with everyone, especially with the parents who gave birth to Woohyun, despite never having raised the child themselves. Numerous times, he sent an epistle to announce the jolly occasion and invite them for the wedding. However, not once did he receive a response.   Woohyun had long suspected it, but denied the possibility of their passing. He did not know which reality would easen up his pain; the belief that he bore no priorities in their life and was therefore abandoned, or the unannounced news of their death. Either way, his parents never attended the wedding. The couple never succumbed to any feelings of pessimism, continuing to enjoy each other’s company, and that of their non blood related family members.   This year also marked the reign of the female movement, aiming to bring equality between the different genders. Who knew that one day, women bore the right to vote, to explore their artistic side, and to receive equal treatment as men? Most importantly, premises were allowed to be signed under a female's name when the Woman’s Property Act was legally issued that year.   “Alas, it is time I renounce my ownership of this house and restore it to its rightful owner,” Woohyun exclaimed with a dramatic flair, squinting from the side of his eyes to watch the reaction of his beloved—now wife. She giggled a chime of delight, squeezing his heart with elation at the sight and sound of it.   “Are you offering me full custody of it?” Hyunmi asked, the smile playing on her lips.   “Only if you want to.”   “Hm,” she hummed, pursing her lips to pretend her deep consideration. “But Mr. Nam, you are the wealthiest man in this town. It isn’t proper for your wife to pilfer your property. How would you maintain your status with no premise of your own?”   “My wife seems to be unaware of my most recent purchase,” Woohyun reminded her, the smile carrying over as he looked at her puzzled expression. How he adored that look of pure wonder, emancipating an ethereal beauty he took pride in. Above all, he loved surprising her the most. He wrapped his hand around hers and proceeded. “I purchased the brothel we once rescued Jineul from.”   “What?” she exclaimed, staring at him wide eyed. “For whatever reason?”   “To have it rebuilt and renovated into a school,” Woohyun continued, watching her gaze soften in realization. “I stand firm with my theory and believe you have the talent to teach young women about self respect. In a society where daughters are taught to become property of their husband, you could pulverize those petty beliefs.”   “I thought you were merely jesting,” Hyunmi spoke, recalling that day when she had encountered several young upper class women, curiously inquiring her method of acquiring Woohyun’s affection so that they too, could become the perfect Angel of The House. Oh, what a handful of lecture she had given them that day.   “I never jest regarding my affections for you and what I deem is for your best interest,” Woohyun spoke. He settled his free hand on their entwined fingers, encasing hers completely. “The world is changing for the better, and it needs people to instigate these changes. You have the heart and ability to do so, Hyunmi.”   “But I—”   “Your brother would beam with utmost pride,” Woohyun reassured, planting a soft kiss on her hand. “Trust me.”   Hyunmi sighed, knowing she had already lost the argument against her husband. His words spoke the truth; the world embraced the changes taking place around them. She could see these changes in her loved ones as well.   In her two years of apprenticeship, Rika met several world famed painters, all who complimented her on her talents. Word of mouth spread fast, travelling far and wide over cities. Eventually, many upperclassmen commissioned to have their portraits drawn, in awe by her ability to convey such realism in every brush , conveying an emotion through the eye on canvas. No longer was her gender the subject of foolishness, instead triggering a greater astonishment. Art institutes began to accept female student enrollment, thus enabling Rika to receive the proper education she had been rejected from.   They had thought fame would get the better of her, but Rika had been raised to value family and friendship above all else. The day when Jangjun was released from his two years sentence, she was the one standing at the very front, the first person to welcome him with open arms. Undeniably, the two pulled away soon after, a red shade beautifully painting the side of their cheeks.   In fear of rejection, Jangjun found contentment in their current courtship. The ability to see her on a daily basis was all he required to set his heart at ease. Rika, on the other hand, would not let it slip so easily.   “Two years ago, you asked me to wait for you, and I have,” she uttered, her hands tightly clenching the side of her long skirt. Maintaining a firm eye contact became challenging, and her face seemed to grow a shade redder at his transfixed attention. “What have I been waiting for?”   “Oh,” Jangjun mouthed, awkwardly glancing to the side to see the rest of his family staring intently. Though they tried to take on an aloof act, glancing elsewhere with a pretentious tune whistling from their lips, their curiosity was penetrable. But nay, he had waited his entire life for this moment; he could not let it plummet out of embarrassment.   To everyone’s surprise, Jangjun marched forward, sloppily smashing his lips against Rika’s. The sight was the least bit romantic, but adorable nevertheless. The two clearly had no idea what they were doing. It took a small snicker from the side for Jangjun to pull away, his face as red as the scorching sun.   “Be quiet, Youngtaek!” he commanded his friend, the culprit of the interruption.   “Do proceed,” Youngtaek uttered, raising his hand in the air as his token of apologetic surrender.   Jangjun cleared his throat before facing Rika. The poor girl tapped her lips using her finger, but Jangjun threaded his fingers with hers. He his bottom lip, opening and closing his mouth in anxiety before finding disorganized words to form his sentence. “I asked you to wait because I wanted to assess our situation. Two years have passed and I am liberat