The noise became a deafening hum. As if in slow motion, Namjoo puffed up her cheeks and shook her head to keep water out of her lungs. Squinting as her arms and legs floated upward. Staring up into Chanyeol slowly falling toward her a millisecond at a time.

That look of astonishment in his eyes was not a regular look he would usually give her. Still, Namjoo stared up at him as if he could catch her on his way down.

Chanyeol was first to start flailing and kicking, pivoting his body vertically. In pretty movements his dark robe floated around him like the gills of a fish opening. The knot on his undershirt loosened baring his chest to her.

Finally landing on her soles Namjoo pushed herself up. Coughing and choking on water. Realizing the bath was only some four feet deep.

No time to feel stupid before she caught her breath. Walking over to the side Namjoo clung onto the edge. Unable to stop coughing on water like a . Adjacent to her Chanyeol watched like she was an imbecile. And he didn’t offer to help her.

It took several minutes for her to finally calm. When she turned his face was beet red. His shirt slipping halfway from his front. Namjoo saw skin and more skin.

“You insolent fool!” he scolded loudly. His voice booming from deep inside his throat. “You have no shame!”

“What?” Namjoo asked completely lost, half gasping – half in disbelief.

“Get out of here! At once, you wretch!” Chanyeol roared.

“Why are you talking like that?” Namjoo wondered unbelievably puzzled.

He literally shook. Then grabbed his undershirt to hide his barely state from her. “Guards! Guards!”

Namjoo rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, why are you…”

“GUARDS!!!” he literally howled like a wild animal.

Before she’d have to face the wrath of Madam Cho Namjoo gritted her teeth, in a breath. “Fine, fine.”

Damn Chanyeol. She would deal with him later.

Clutching onto the edge of the pool Namjoo tried jumping up. The weight of her soaked clothes forced her back into the water. One more try and she sunk back down. She heaved frustration.

Turning to Chanyeol she asked, “Can you help me here?”

The man merely stared at her. Those big eyes of his had never appeared so flat before.

“Forget it!” she shouted then mumbled, “You jerk.”

Two more tries and Namjoo finally lifted her leg up. Feeling her thigh muscles cramp in the process because her damn clothes were so heavy. The eloquent materials like lead. Managing to get her leg up meant she only needed to get the other half of her body out of the water. Panting by now Namjoo felt exhausted.

By the time she finally lay on the side like a dead fish, Chanyeol really did not lend her a hand. Like some high authority he stood in the bath watching her with those narrow eyes. Filtered with disgust of some sort for her.

What the hell was with him?

Namjoo slammed the door on her way out. Drenched from head to toe. Snarling, because Chanyeol who claimed to love her more than she him, hadn’t bothered at all!

“Why you!” she turned around to raise her fist into the air.

Ruffling her hair frustrated with him, she stepped into the courtyard hoping to find some kind of towel in her room.

“Ah…God…” she mumbled upon her first step and looked down to find out she was missing a shoe.

Namjoo trekked back to her room leaving behind puddles and streaks of mud, which she was sure to pay for later. In the sanctity of her room she rummaged through every single drawer for something to change into. Shivering because she was suddenly cold. Water wouldn’t stop dripping from her hair. Her robe clung to her body like second skin.

Namjoo was sick of this, but of course, patience. She needed patience. In order to find out what in God’s name was going on she needed more than patience perhaps. Like damn Park Chanyeol explain to her what was going on and why he was putting on this needless hideous act with her!

Pulling out a top Namjoo dropped her head to sigh. Drained, because what time was it? Patting her body Namjoo searched for her phone. Recalling she’d left it on her bedside table she groaned. Why wasn’t anything going her way?

She turned when the door slid open and one of the servants poked her head inside. Gasping when she saw how soaked she was. Hurrying inside she asked, “Young Miss! What happened?”

“You don’t want the long story, do you?” Namjoo sourly asked.

“Sorry?”

Waving her off, Namjoo mumbled, “Never mind. What time is it?”

“It’s the time of the rooster already…”

“No, no, no,” Namjoo frowned, “I mean what time? Is it three? Or six in the evening?”

“I’m…sorry….” Deeply frowning confused the servant girl said, “I’m lost.” Bewilderment crossed the servant’s expression.

Heaving another sigh, Namjoo mumbled to herself. “Never mind then. I…I need something to wear.”

“Oh, yes. Let me help you.” She held her arms out for the top she was holding onto.

Namjoo hesitated. “I have my own hands, you know. I can change myself.”

“Oh no, I can’t,” she shook her innocent head. “The madam won’t allow it. This is the rule around here. We must help you. Morning, day, and night.”

Namjoo’s expression dimmed. “You’re not serious.”

“Let me help you.” The servant urged. “You must bring dinner to the general on time. The madam will keep you in check today. We must not get in trouble.”

The woman stretched her arms out for her to hand the top over. This part Namjoo hated the most. She was a very private person. Taught to be independent. To be able to accomplish things alone because that was the way. Her father raised her like that so she could achieve everything on her own. Money. Power. Fame.

The woman scooted over to continue the search through the drawers. Magically pulling out fresh undergarments and an entire new robe for her. Finishing her hair with a curved wooden comb – none Namjoo had seen before – and replaced the jade hairpin into the newly finished bun. All before rushing her toward the kitchen to hand her a heavy wooden tray topped with four bowls of food and a tea jar with a matching miniature cup.

Weird, Namjoo thought, but she said nothing. Already here she would deal with it, because there wasn’t any challenge she couldn’t handle.

Fine, Park Chanyeol, she mentally huffed.

Just like that it was as if she’d never dove into the bath at all. Left on her own to figure it out Namjoo stood in the courtyard beneath the stars just popping out. Estimating it somewhere between 7 to 9pm. Late.

Right now, she’d be leaving the office and making the drive home. Following the flow of red taillights underneath a glowing city. Flowing with traffic bound north. Talking on the phone, maybe, and arguing with her boyfriend because that was what they did. Bickering about the dates she’d posted in her calendar; the specific times on days she reserved for him. Easy satisfaction for her but Chanyeol wanted different.

“Yesterday I wanted to ask you to marry me.”

A star twinkled then disappeared. Becoming an empty spot between the glittering sparkles. Namjoo’s eyes remained on the dim area. Wondering if this was some sort of retribution from Chanyeol how should she redeem herself? Asking straightforwardly for his forgiveness was not the most plausible solution. She needed to do better than that.

She wasn’t a horrible person she thought. Sure, she was hard to deal with but she always tried to compromise, hadn’t she?

Second room on the west side. Glancing past the cherry blossom tree Namjoo observed the guest houses currently glowing with dim yellow lights. Lanterns burning most likely. Namjoo could smell the flicker of weak fire. Seriously, no electricity?

Where exactly was she?

The prospect of this strange village didn’t hit her very well. Namjoo needed the convenience of a woman’s modern life. That meant a quality cushioned bed with a fluffy pillow. A window with a nice view of the backyard or perhaps the quiet street. Electricity. Running stoves that and off at the flick of a button. The television to keep her time. Air conditioning and heating. The car that made transportation easy.

Not paved dirt roads and noisy market owners trying to voice over each other. Or wagons pulled by horses, those poor animals. Or weird men in armors that remained on display in museums. Especially these clothes. Whoever wore them casually only did for special events.

Namjoo stared down at the traditional wear she’d been in ever since waking up.

What the hell was this?

Heaving the nth sigh of the day Namjoo moved toward the building on her left. Chanyeol best explain to her what was going on because she just wanted to go home.

Starting forward Namjoo stopped by the granite steps. Eyeing the thick shoes at the bottom of the steps. Slipping out of the new pair of shoes she was wearing Namjoo took the stairs up. The thick wooden door was closed.

Knocking, Namjoo called out, “Yeol?” Pushing the door aside she poked her head into the somewhat dim room.

It wasn’t even total nighttime yet, but the room was already basking in darkness. Glowing with the lantern burning strongly beside a small table, where in front of it Chanyeol was sitting. Long legs crossed and waiting to be served like a king. Namjoo’s eyebrows nearly twitched.

Park Chanyeol had never dared treat her like this before. Forcing her to serve him food.

Biting her tongue Namjoo left the door open for the sake of some light.

“You are late,” he scolded. “How dare you leave the door open?”

Frowning, Namjoo glared. Dropping the tray with vehemence she turned to shove the door close. “Happy?”

“Ingrate!” he yelled at her.

“In…ingrate?” Namjoo repeated flustered. Turning to scoff then back to him, “What is going on with you? I swear if you don’t stop right now, we’re done here!”

“We…we’re?” Chanyeol hurriedly blinked. Appearing taken aback.

“Do you think I’m joking?” Namjoo argued then jerked when he smacked his hands against the table so hard even the tray jumped.

She subconsciously leaned away when Chanyeol rose to his feet. Easily towering over her from where he stood. Behind that tiny, tiny table. Namjoo’s head lightly bumped into the door when he stepped from around the table toward her. His gait slow and taunting.

Namjoo swallowed. Turning her head to the side when he came to a stop in front of her. Smelling not of the usual aftershave or fresh scent of his favorite classic shampoo but just pure musk.

Taking a peek Namjoo traced the sharp edge of his jawline that connected to his funny big ears. Where his cheekbones held high and accentuated his flair. To those big eyes that held her very reflection in his own. The nose that loved taking in the scent of her perfume, the refreshing sweet scent she used for her hair. When they hugged, he was her bear; big, strong, warm, protective.

He looked every bit of her Yeol.

The general yanked her forward, shoving her to her knees in front of the tiny table. Namjoo landed with a thump, a gasp, and a kind of surprised grunt.

Namjoo glared again when he rounded the table and sat. Cross legged. Very properly. Back rim rod straight.

Tonight, Chanyeol’s eyes were hard and stern. Mean and uptight. His expression stretched very thinly.

“Pour me a drink.” He demanded.

Namjoo scoffed again. “You’re really overdoing it.” She jumped when he slammed a hand against the table again.

“Sir,” he prompted, “to you, I am your Sir and that is how you will regard me.”

Namjoo’s eye twitched. Was he honestly serious? Or was this some kind of plain joke? She couldn’t believe him. Take this seriously and abide by everything that was currently happening.

This just had to be some kind of cruel prank!

Namjoo stared at him through the flickering flame burning intensely inside the lantern. Catching through it, short rays of Chanyeol’s edged face. Recognizing no stretch of his lips to laugh this off and tell her he wasn’t being real.

She just saw a man who had no patience for anything as if he’d had a horrible day and wanted this over with. He didn’t want to play with her. He wanted his warm meal, a nice drink, and then call it a night.

Park Chanyeol, her Park Chanyeol would make time for her regardless. He was the one who would boil a bowl of ramen for her and add greens and seafood to it for a refreshing taste. They’d eat together at a table. Never he alone without her.

Her Chanyeol did not look at her with displeasure.

This was weird.

Namjoo couldn’t fathom what was truly going on. By morning would Chanyeol come to give her a hug and say, “Lets go home. I didn’t mean it.”

For a withering minute Namjoo struggled to come to terms with what he was doing.

She wasn’t stupid. She had a master’s degree. Studied hard and graduated from Yonsei. Worked alongside her father in a man dominated business world to make her mark as one of the few females. Had succeeded in accomplishing an expedition abroad. Her bank was overflowing with money. Namjoo was not only prideful but smart and witty and proud to be who she was.

No one and not just anything could step on her hard efforts. To be who she was today.

She was sharp. Observant. Steadfast. Compromising. Fair.

Yes, it was true. She could be rude. Cold. Come off as arrogant. But all had their reasons.

She did, too.

But if Chanyeol was playing a game right now, he was going too far.

Part of her hoped she was seeing him wrong. That he had gotten superbly good with acting.

But truly…she could only hope.

Chanyeol didn’t use formal or outdated speech to her. The modern man who worried about his future did not treat her like this.

The longer Namjoo stared into his eyes from across the table in the glare of the lantern, the more unfamiliar he became to her.

So, this…what was going on?

Slowly lifting her arm, she grabbed the ceramic jar of tea. Upturning the miniature cup, she poured tea for him. Replacing the jar, she waited for him to take his drink.

Chanyeol’s glare remained as he took the cup and took a sip. Namjoo debated.

Finally going along with this ploy to satisfy him, she started, “Sir, so what are you doing here?”

To teach me some kind of lesson? she wondered.

“We’ll be staying until tomorrow and wait for news in Hanyang.” His gentler tone almost shocked her.

More than that, Namjoo tripped over the word, “H…Han…Hanyang? You said Hanyang?”

That was the old name for Seoul. A disconcerted frown dispersed over her face.

“Where are we?” Namjoo asked, her heart thumping hard.

Chanyeol’s blatant face merely became a sketch. She took in his dark robe. The long hair. Part of it hanging over his shoulders – what she had presumed were god ugly extensions.

“What is this lady asking…” he mumbled. “This is Gangneung of Gangwon province.”

Leaning backwards Namjoo’s eyes bugged out. “You’re lying…”

“This crazy woman…”

Shoving the table away from her Namjoo bolted up and out of the room. Racing down the steps. Almost tripping over the traditional socks she’d had to slip on. Breathing harder every second.

“He’s lying…he’s lying…” Namjoo panted pausing in the center of the courtyard. Straightening as the entire starlit sky spun around her. Eyes flying past the guest houses, the tree in full bloom, and the bathhouse.

The traditional buildings with slanted tiled roofs. Thinking about the robed people she’d seen walking around her. The hair accessories. The traditional hair buns.

Nearly hyperventilating, Namjoo keeled over with hands on her knees. Queasy all of a sudden.

No, she could not deal with this.

She was just in some old folk village where everyone was making a mockery of her. Staggering forward Namjoo raced back into the main lodge. Darting down the empty hallway noisily. Sliding the door to her room open loudly and slamming it shut. Breathing faster as she backtracked in the dark to the bed. Eyes on the door as if a monster was standing in wait for her.

When she woke up, she’d be back in her own bed. In her home at the 12-acre mansion. Climbing into bed Namjoo tugged the blanket embroidered with flowers over her head. Clamping her eyes shut and waited for the sun to rise.

Needless say, she did not sleep a wink. By the time the room lit up, light somehow streaming through the papered windows, Namjoo kicked off the blanket. Eyes sore and filled with exhaustion. Hair unkempt.

Staring at the silk curtains above her and angling around the bed. The room remained unchanged. Lifting her arm to see the long sleeve hanging off her forearm.

“No, no, no, no, no.”

***Smart girl Namjoo is figuring this out but she's going into denial

***It'll take time to hit things off and develop where this story is going (idk even know what I'm doing >.>) but it'll find a way. I thought about scrapping the story since ch1 seemed iffy and could be confusing but then, some stories start like that and this may be the rare one of mine I suppose that lets you figure everything out as you read. So don't let it hit you too hard and make it confusing, just wait and see

***Namjoo is merely treating Yeol the way she would in modern day but he isn't having none of her casual bs because well, he doesn't know her

***p.s. we all know Hanyang is modern day Seoul right? Anyway it was really hard to do research on provinces & little towns and all so I may not be correct about province/city names during this era