Sechan led the army successfully out of the trap, but only half of their men remained. When they reached a relatively safe place, he paused on his tracks to look back and wait for Donghoon and Jongkook.

But when he looked back, Donghoon rode alone, as he caught up to Sechan. There was a soldier hoisted up behind him, who appeared to be fatally wounded. Sechan felt his stomach drop, as he thought of who could be riding with Donghoon, but he saw the man and realized it wasn’t the commander.

“Where’s Hyung?” Sechan asked Donghoon.

Donghoon looked around, and scoured the place for any sighting of Jongkook, “He made me go ahead because I have an injured soldier with me. Isn’t he here?”

As if on cue, Jongkook’s black stallion came out of the forest, without its owner on its back. Sechan and Donghoon looked back to the forest, realizing that Jongkook had been left behind under a rain of arrows alone.

“Hyung…” the sound escaped Donghoon’s lips, as his mind connected the dots, and a tear escaped from his eyes.

Anger was liberating, Jihyo decided.

Since she kept Jongkook’s totem away, it had been a bit easier to remove him from every moment of her waking consciousness. But, in the moments her mind inevitably drifted to the thought of him, she thought about how he was never coming back, and how he never loved her enough to fight for her, while he doubtlessly fought with his life for a war he didn’t even believe in. He may have loved her, but he didn’t love her enough to keep her in his life - not like how her father loved her mother until his dying breath, not like how Kwangsoo fought to marry Sunbin. 

Her mind decided to subject Jongkook to harsh judgment, and the dark emotion allowed her some reprieve from longing for him. She was able to pay attention to the things that mattered to her before, albeit the fact that she no longer felt passionate about them. She could go to court without minding the updates on the war as she did before. She could meet her siblings again without any resentment. Palace life didn’t seem to be empty, and Jongkook morphed into a distant memory that she didn’t wish to relive.

But, in her nightly slumber, her mind and heart betrayed her, because her dreams had been filled with memories of him. They all felt too real for her liking - the way he smiled at her boyishly, the low chuckle that escaped his lips every time he , the warmth his hand brought to her every time he held her hand, and the way his lips softly brushed against her forehead when he kissed her for the last time. Sometimes, her dreams were of her fantasies - the life she wished they could live together. The morning robbed her dreams away, and every time the sun rose, Jihyo had to train her mind to remember that Jongkook left her, and that dreaming about him was useless.

She had anger every morning for breakfast, and it certainly motivated her to pull through with her life despite Jongkook’s absence. 

A little over three months after the troops for conquest left, Jihyo was having breakfast with the entirety of her family. Sunbin was still going through her morning sickness, and in the dead of winter, the cold weather was weakening the queen’s appetite. So, Somin suggested that the women should eat breakfast together in their mother’s garden, every morning.

At this point, the family gathering was becoming a daily staple, and Jihyo liked the company. Getting herself preoccupied with her sisters successfully distracted her from her other thoughts, while providing her recreation from her work. But that morning, the surprise was Kwangsoo joined them. She eyed him suspiciously, wondering why her brother was eating breakfast with them, when his mornings were usually reserved for receiving reports. She was also too perceptive, noticing the wary glances Kwangsoo threw her way multiple times.

“Alright, out with it, Kwangsoo,” she said, her fist pounding loudly on the surface of their table. Somin and Sunbin were surprised at Jihyo’s sudden outburst. “What are you doing here? I’m not going to pretend that I don’t see you trying to feel me out. Do you have anything to say to me?”

Kwangsoo sighed, his eyes were downcast and refused to meet hers. He gently put down his chopsticks, and it was only then that Jihyo noticed that he never touched his bowl of rice. He was scared of breaking this news. He didn’t know when and how it began, but Jihyo just began to get her footing back in the palace. This piece of knowledge would break her, and if her hostility to them when Jongkook left for war was an indication of what was to come, Kwangsoo was scared of how she would react this time. The king sighed before saying, “I’m not sure how to tell you this.”

Jihyo’s eyes narrowed at him, while Sunbin and Somin also wondered where this confrontation was headed. Kwangsoo gathered all his strength to say his next words, “I received a notice from an emissary from General Janghoon yesterday. They had to withdraw from the war, and the troops… they’re due to arrive today. They were already at the capital gates when I woke up; they’re probably back at the palace now.”

The first thing that entered Jihyo’s mind was that the war had truly been meaningless. They conquered two polities, none of which were particularly substantial for the confederacy. Jongkook left for a small prize, and he was probably already on the way to his next assignment. She could finally free herself of worrying for him, as he completely went off the grid.

She acted nonchalantly, taking more bites out of the breakfast served around them. “I don’t understand why you were scared of telling me that. So, we failed. But we conquered two polities. That’s probably enough revenge on Gaya for fooling us before.”

Kwangsoo was confused at Jihyo’s disinterest, and he looked warily at Somin, who just shrugged, also wondering why her sister didn’t seem to care about a matter she used to be so passionate about. The king asked, “Aren’t you going to ask how it failed?”

Jihyo eyed him disdainfully. Truthfully, she didn’t want to hear any more news on this. The last thing she needed was to once again fill her days with memories of Jongkook, when her nights were being plagued by dreams of him. But her brother didn’t seem to want to budge, so she decided to just go for it, “Well you seem to be so hell-bent on telling me anyway, so go ahead.”

“Noona…” Kwangsoo used the term of endearment, and Jihyo’s stomach dropped. The last time she heard Kwangsoo call her noona was when he told her of their father’s death. Then Kwangsoo proceeded to tell her the news - how the army had to split into two units even with the reinforcements, how Jongkook had led the first unit up Seongsan Gaya, and how they had been trapped on their way. “Commander Jongkook’s unit was halved in the ambush, and he… he never got out of Seongsan Gaya.”

Jihyo blinked once, then twice. Her mind couldn’t process what she just heard, but more importantly, her heart didn’t seem to accept it. “How are you sure about these?” she asked Kwangsoo, her voice trembling.

“General Janghoon sent the emissary, and that’s what his letter said, Noona,” Kwangsoo repeated slowly, knowing that Jihyo’s grief must have been leading her to deny everything for now. “They’re probably now in the courtyard. I am due to meet them for their return. We can meet them together if you don’t believe me.”

Jihyo immediately stood up, and Kwangsoo smiled bitterly at his sister’s enthusiasm. She was bound to be disappointed soon, and he felt a bitter pang of disappointment in himself. She was going to spiral down again, the king knew that much, and that moment really felt cruel for him. He was the one who dealt the cards, and his sister was going to suffer the consequences.

She sped through the palace ahead of him into the courtyard, Somin, Sunbin, and the rest of all their servants in tow. Jihyo immediately saw the multitude of men in the courtyard; they were many, but they only occupied about half of the space they took when they were about to leave. The princess's eyes saw a lot of them in carts, bandages wrapped around their wounds, with patches of dried blood sticking out and grime on their faces as proof that they had been casualties of a gruesome war. She scanned the area, not minding Kwangsoo and General Janghoon who were now talking upfront and looking for the two people she was sure could confirm that Jongkook was alive.

She saw them, at the back, onboard their own horses. She ran up to them, not minding the throng of men that stood in between, and, in her haste, her dress got caught under her feet and she fell down on the floor. “Unnie!” Somin shouted as she immediately ran up to the princess’s side.

When Jihyo looked up, she realized it wasn’t only Somin whose attention she caught. Donghoon had come to her side as well, and Sechan was only a few footsteps away. She gazed at Donghoon, her eyes filled with hope, “Where’s Jongkook? Where is he? The war’s over. Did he safely reach the outskirts?”

Donghoon and Sechan’s eyes were downcast, unable to meet the princess’s eyes. She asked them again, this time her voice going a bit higher in pitch given her distress. She clutched onto Donghoon’s neckline demanding an answer. 

“He never made it out of Seongsan Gaya, your highness. We waited for a long time, and we even went back to check, but he was nowhere to be found. An emissary from Seongsan Gaya informed the General that they had already burned all the corpses we left behind, and we were all asked to leave their territory immediately,” Donghoon explained, his voice merely a whisper, breaking at certain points as his words also confirmed the story she never wanted to admit. 

Hearing him, Jihyo felt heavy, and she fell back to Somin’s waiting arms. She kept shaking her head, saying no repeatedly, as if denying what she heard would make it untrue. Somin held her sister, cupping her cheek, “Unnie, let’s go back to the eastern palace. Everyone’s looking at you.”

It was only then that Jihyo remembered they were in quite a public place, and she allowed her weight to be carried by Somin, who was now being aided by Jihyo’s lady-in-waiting. They all walked back to Jihyo’s quarters. Somin asked the servants to leave the room, and, as they did, Jihyo laid herself down on the bed. 

Somin sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her sister. Jihyo’s face was blank, as she stared up at the ceiling of her room, and tears steadily streamed down the side of her face. Somin reached out for her hand, and gently massaged her palm and fingers. “Unnie, talk to me,” she said, coaxing an answer out of Jihyo. The younger princess heard what the soldiers told Jihyo, and she was terribly worried. 

Jihyo’s face still expressed no emotion. That was the thing about immeasurable grief; it was too powerful that it numbed down the person and rid her of any emotion. It could not be expressed into cathartic actions like screaming, crying,