This couldn’t be happening. Why was she still here? In these clothes? In this room?

“Young Miss?”

The door slid open. The familiar face of the girl who’d helped her yesterday appeared. Groaning Namjoo dropped her head onto the pillow.

It was time to change again.

ꞜꞜꞜꞜꞜ

Everything was the same. All the ladies at work. Each in identical uniforms. Their hairs done the in the same style. Moving at swift speeds as if they were born to work. Simultaneously engrossed in some sort of banter or chatter.

Namjoo glanced at the same lady she’d seen kneeling by the stove yesterday. She was in the same spot fanning the weak fire. The ladies at the large wooden table were skillfully chopping away. A variety of assorted ingredients lay in woven baskets all around.

No one minded her.

No one seemed to care.

“The general asked for you this morning,” the girl had told her while adjusting her clothes. “You must not waste time.”

Namjoo thought it was a joke. Or perhaps Chanyeol was ready to apologize for this whole charade. For some reason she was afraid she was wrong about that.

Turning down the hall Namjoo started toward the courtyard. Today was really too fine of a day for her to still be dreaming. The sun blazed down on her strongly. The heat was real. The light blinding. The breeze cutting by.

Namjoo squinted into the sunlight. Wondering what was going on.

If she wouldn’t end up fighting with Chanyeol again she’d ask him for real answers. Stepping toward the guest house Namjoo opened the door. Discovering the room empty. She stared surprised for some reason.

Putting the tray down onto the low table she stalked back out. Slipping into her shoes and began prowling around to understand the lay of the land. No one was in the courtyard strangely. Everyone must be out and about or something.

Good. Namjoo wandered around the empty space. Passing the bathhouse and the shed where the water pump was. The door was wide open but it was unoccupied. Hearing noise she glanced past the shed. Cautiously stepping around the building closer to the siding. Peeking into the overgrown trees of the lush forest where everything seemed wild. Tall grass, flowery weeds, an assortment of chestnut trees and huge oaks and maples. A roll of land and nature expanding toward the mountains.

Namjoo spotted a man in front of a horse tied to the nearest tree. His hushed voice murmuring words she could not decipher.

Unfortunately, the horse sensed her presence. Neighing quite loudly. The man who turned around was not Chanyeol.

Namjoo couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed.

Found out she stepped away from her hiding spot. Awkwardly raising a hand to gesture a wave she received an unkind and questionable frown.

“So, the horses are here,” Namjoo gestured toward the creatures as she walked toward him while maintaining her distance. She’d never been near a horse before. This one’s coat was superbly shiny. Its muscles woven thickly underneath its skin; a bulging mass. Namjoo gulped imagining how much it would hurt if she got kicked.

“You,” he eyed her, “the rude woman from yesterday.”

Upon closer inspection she finally remembered. The man at the front nearest Chanyeol who’d been yelling at her.

“Ah…” she opened in recognition. Running her eyes down then up. His build wasn’t big. Didn’t seem that tall either. With the robe she couldn’t quite determine how fit he was. His face was boyish and small. He must be in his young 20’s or something.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He slightly shifted as if threatened by her observation.

“Who are you?” Namjoo asked.

“I should be asking who you are,” he corrected. “Where are your manners?”

“I asked first.”

“Very well,” he angled his head up to, maybe, intimidate her. “My name is Kim Minseok of the 44^th platoon. I am the general’s second in command.”

“Second in command?” Namjoo repeated. Then asked more to herself than him, “Wouldn’t that be like, vice ceo?”

“Vi…vice what?” he asked confused. Those thick brows twining together.

Namjoo ran her gaze over the young man again. His robe wasn’t low quality, which meant he must possess some kind of renowned title. Or he was well taken care of, had a good job, something like that.

“Then, the general…uh…Chanyeol…”

He cut her off as fast as a knife to a chicken’s throat, “How dare you call him so casually? Know your place, woman.”

Namjoo gasped, insulted. “Excuse me?”

“You should know the general is from the prime minister’s family. Call him so casually and no one will forgive you,” he warned.

“Prime minister?” she frowned. “Prime minister?”

“It’s what I said.” He crossed his arms defiantly.

Chanyeol was from the prime minister’s family?

Nonsense!

His father was an engineer; his mother a professor in the physics department at Seoul University.

The prime minister?

Park Chanyeol a general…sounded very unlikely. The noise of it was distasteful at the tip of her tongue.

“It can’t be…” Namjoo muttered. “You’re lying.”

Chanyeol was her tricking her. This was her Park Chanyeol!

“How dare you insinuate that I’m a liar?” Upset, he stepped away from his horse and closed in on her. Namjoo hated to admit she had to tilt her head up a little. “The king sent us up north for weeks where we starved in the woods for days fighting off invaders and grew fatigued from the heat. The terrain home was filled with boars and bears and rocks and cliffs. If not for the general’s expertise we wouldn’t have made it here. So don’t you talk down on him so casually. He is a man of honor and deserves the best respect.”

“I don’t believe you.” Namjoo spat then turned around stomping off.

This wasn’t real.

This couldn’t be real.

She wasn’t in some medieval era reliving the past.

The king?

Prime minister?

Park Chanyeol was not some general who wielded a sword. He didn’t even know how to hold a knife properly.

“This is insane.” She muttered to herself. Speed walking back to the main lodge. She was going to find her way home!

“Where are you going?”

Abruptly pausing, Namjoo turned to find Chanyeol standing in front of his open doorway. Hands at his back. In some plain blue robe but somehow coming off as manly as he did in dress pants and a button down.

Park Chanyeol, still handsome even with the hideous long hair.

“Come inside.” He simply said before disappearing into his room.

Namjoo blinked, lost for a second. The man so stiff and repulsive with her yesterday sounded nice today.

Was Chanyeol finally about to ask for forgiveness?

Wheeling around Namjoo walked toward the granite steps. Taking off her shoes on her way up. Inside Chanyeol was seated again at the tiny table. Legs crossed. Back straight. The tray of food was half eaten.

Her Chanyeol would never forgive anyone for leaving their plate unfinished. It was an atrocity to him. “Only eat what you can, don’t fill up your plate with more than you can take. That’s just selfish,” per his words.

Her frugal boyfriend would have already put the leftovers in the fridge before sitting down to eat. Park Chanyeol wasn’t poor but he spent his money sparingly. To prepare for his future. Always cautious in case of an emergency. His bank account may not swell in zeroes like hers but he had good numbers because he managed well.

Namjoo’s eyes lay on the food. Sitting cold. Untouched.

The difference was stirring.

“Sit down,” he nodded toward the empty spot at her feet.

Doing as told, Namjoo stared at the jar of tea she didn’t recognize. This time he didn’t order her to pour a cup for him. She watched him fill up a cup for her, push it over. Namjoo took a glimpse of the yellowish liquid then to him.

“Madam Cho told me you’re mine until we depart.”

Namjoo glanced toward the side. Nothing the way he said you’re mine held no connotation of affection. It was just a plain statement.

She wanted to crack a joke sarcastically when she said, “To Hanyang?” but the undertone of mockery was nowhere to be found.

“Tomorrow I plan to fetch the news.”

“I thought you were leaving today.”

“I have received the message the carrier boy is delayed,” Chanyeol explained taking an eloquent sip of tea; the cup appearing too small in his big hands.

Her eyes lay on his hands intently, as if mentally praying for him to reach over then her hair. Tell her this was fake. His hair was a wig. The sword sitting by his iron armor in the corner of the back room was just a display for fun. That this was make believe and she had not somehow winded up in a weird era she was not supposed to be in.

“Your name,” Namjoo started and added for effect to play along and also kind of not, “sir, what is your name?”

His eyes widened slightly. Taken aback by her, what, bold question.

Park Chanyeol, her boyfriend of three years, was not a good actor. His emotions were readable 100% of the time through his eyes. Her boyfriend was not a liar. She would always find him out. He was always expressing something and never nothing.

This Chanyeol also could not hide and that stirred her even more.

“I am from the Gangeum Dan clan,” he told her, “Park Chanyeol for praise ten times. My mother wished for me to always become successful and gain honor ten lifetimes over.”

Namjoo felt such a strong smack to the face she literally set her gaze nowhere else but him.

A joke.

This was what it was.

A joke.

Abruptly getting up Namjoo hurled out of the room. Half slipping into her shoes and raced down the courtyard. Tasting the wind as it flew by. Bumping into other servants on her way into the hall. Her mind a whizz. Everything a blur to her eyes.

The pasty walls. The open doors of laborers. Past the kitchen where every noise thudded. Her brain pounded against her skull. Heart ramming into her ribs screaming escape. Namjoo ran straight ahead. Shooting past the two open doors into to the dirt paved road where voices roared.

Panting and panicking. Her eyes went right and left. Running over the men and women in different colored clothing. Varying from shabby to modest. Peddlers carrying basket backpacks woven from yarn. Tracing the polyester tents where vendors had tables of goods for sell. Animal hides, jewelry, wool, food, treats.

Children’s faces were streaked with mud. Their shoes created from straw.

Hyperventilating Namjoo stumbled into the street. Whirling. Spinning. Staring at cheap wooden shacks. Smelling sweat, grease, dirt. Oriental medicine.

“Watch it!” someone bumped into her. Namjoo clumsily shifted to her left nearly tripping.

Passersby stared at her curiously. Some of their pants bearing holes. Women with fake braided hair buns in vibrant robes eyed her as they scurried to the opposite end of the market street, as if she had a disease and might spread it.

The heat was suddenly unbearable. Sweat trickled down her nape into her clothes. Namjoo felt her vision blur before crumbling.

ꞜꞜꞜꞜꞜ

“Chanyeol is here.” The housekeeper poked her head in.

Rolling her eyes with a tiresome sigh, Namjoo waved her off. When the door closed, she mumbled, “Gosh, I have a meting in an hour.” Brushing her hair over her shoulder she swiped her bag off the desk. Wondering what the heck he wanted now.

Kiss up to her? Apologize for being so rash on the phone yesterday? There was a bigger chance he’d chide her ear off.

Should she say sorry again?

These days he made her so exhausted.

Climbing down the wide marble staircase she entered the short corridor leading to the open kitchen. On the other side of the wide-open doors at the end was the 12-foot pool that belonged to her family. She was a swimmer. Used to swim.

Crossing the kitchen to the door she joined him. Not bothering to slide the door close in case they raised their voices and started going at each other. Standing six steps away from him she crossed her arms. “What are you doing here? I have a meeting in what is forty-five minutes now.”

Chanyeol turned around to shoot her his burning stare. The ferocity of his glare spoke heights of his anger. “Meeting this, meeting that. Are those the only things you’re capable of saying?”

Her lips stretched into a thin line. “What do you want? I don't have time to spare. You better be quick.”

He scoffed, turned to hiss a breath. “You always do this!”

“Do what?”

“This!” he flung out his arms, distressed. “You barely care about me. You barely make time for us! What are you so obsessed with?! Aren’t you successful already?! Your dad hardly condemns you anymore, Namjoo!”

She stared him on resentfully. “Is this all you came for? To pick at my past because you’re pissed off? I don’t have time for your bull.”

“Bull!” he yelled when she spun around to head inside. “Namjoo! Namjoo!”

Mumbling underneath her breath she cursed at him. For bringing up all her wounds, using it against her. She didn’t care. She didn’t need him. Who was he to her that she would let him hold her back? If he couldn’t see how high she wanted to go, he didn’t deserve her.

“Yesterday I wanted to ask you to marry me. Namjoo!” he continued screaming. “Are you…”

Anger stewed through her but she turned at the sound of him awkwardly cut off. Catching the sight of him midway through his fall. Eyes widening when the back of his head hit the linoleum and he landed toward the side of the pool. The clear blue water suddenly an ominous sight like the lurking blue sea ready to swallow.

The sound of the splash was so eerie Namjoo started screaming for the housekeeper.

Opening her eyes Namjoo stared up at the crisscrossed silk sheets above her. Some kind of breeze made the hanging curtains sway ever gently. Sitting up she realized she was in bed. Shifting her legs over the edge she noted her shoes tidily placed together and facing the door, so she could easily slip into them.

It was suddenly quiet when she slid the door open. Poking her head out Namjoo peered down the darkened hallway. Wondering where everyone had headed.

“Young Miss,” a lady scurried from out of nowhere toward her. “You’re awake?”

Stepping out of the bedroom, Namjoo asked even when she felt stupid, “What time is it? The time of the rooster?”

“Yes. It’s almost time.”

Namjoo stared down the hall that led to the courtyard. With a nod of her head she moved aside. That meant it was time to get the bath ready for Chanyeol.

Walking on autopilot Namjoo observed the empty rooms she passed where the ladies scrubbed laundry and rinsed the greens. There was only a quiet hum in the huge kitchen where the fire was wood beneath the two set stoves.

How had she made it back? Had Chanyeol come to find her when she suddenly ran out of his room?

Driven by some kind of yearning for him, Namjoo found her way to the shed. Pumping the water into the located basket and lugged the entire thing toward the bathhouse. Working hard and sweating the entire time. Thinking, she owed her boyfriend.

Chanyeol who was in a coma and also…somehow here.

She would figure this out.

She would.

By the time she got the fire going to warm up the water Namjoo’s muscles were so sore she literally wanted to collapse. She sat for several minutes huffing and panting. Waiting five minutes before pushing herself up.

Opening the door to the bathhouse she walked inside. Peering at the unmoving water. Crouching down to reach a hand into it. Still kind of cool but the warmth was getting there.

Namjoo smiled. Satisfied with her work.

Listening to her heart thud when the door opened. Broadly grinning when she peered over her shoulder, but it wasn’t Chanyeol.