Aran had been avoiding the bath for days.
It wasn’t just because there were no female servants. There was a deeper reason.
She had originally been a man. Even now, in a woman’s body, the thought of being seen naked by other women felt instinctively uncomfortable. But letting male servants touch her was even more unacceptable. The moment their hands reached her body, her pride rebelled fiercely.
So she had tried to bathe by herself somehow. But a woman’s body was more difficult to handle than she had expected.
In the end, Seo Yunhan stepped in.
He had a special chair made inside the large wooden tub — one perfectly shaped for Aran. He had measured the size of her breasts and carved a gentle hollow so they could rest comfortably. The chair was an exquisitely crafted piece of woodwork.
A lid was placed over the tub, allowing only her head and neck to be exposed. This way, the servants could wash her hair without issue.
But washing the rest of her body was still difficult.
Neither Aran nor Seo Yunhan wanted male servants touching her body. In the end, she always ended up rinsing herself roughly with water and calling it a day.
Until one evening, Seo Yunhan noticed.
"I'll help you," he said quietly. "I'll keep my eyes closed the entire time. I promise."
The large wooden bath was filled with warm water, steam rising softly into the cool evening air.
Seo Yunhan tied a dark cloth firmly over his eyes before he even stepped into the room — he wanted her to see him do it, so she'd trust him. He wore only a thin inner robe. Aran sat in the tub in her own thin undergarments, water up to her chest.
He picked up a soft washing cloth and wrung it out carefully.
"I'll only use this," he said, as if reassuring himself as much as her. "I won't touch you directly."
True to his word, he kept the cloth between his hands and her skin at all times, never once letting his bare fingers stray. He wiped her shoulders first, slow and tentative, then her back, then the nape of her neck — each motion careful, deliberate, like he was handling something far more fragile than it actually was.
"Sorry," he murmured, when the cloth brushed a little too close to her collarbone.
"Sorry," he said again, when she shifted and his hand accidentally grazed her arm.
"Is this alright?" he asked, again and again, never moving to the next spot until she stayed still in answer.
Aran just frowned at him.
‘Why is he apologizing every two seconds. It's a bath. Get on with it.’
She watched him fumble through the whole ordeal with mild, faintly irritated confusion, the way one might watch a man overthink a simple task. None of it bothered her in the slightest — she'd been stripped, scrubbed, and patched up by army medics on a dozen battlefields. A wet cloth on her shoulder was nothing.
Then she glanced sideways at him.
The damp robe clung faintly to his chest, and for the first time she actually looked.
…Wait.
Lean muscle. Clearly defined, unmistakably solid. Nothing like the soft-handed, paperwork-pushing "peony scholar" she'd mocked in court for years.
Since when does that bookish bastard have abs like a war drum—
Her mouth fell open. Without quite meaning to, her fingers drifted forward and pressed against the hard line of his stomach.
At first glance, it looked rock-solid. But when she pressed, it felt surprisingly springy — firm yet elastic, with a taut, bouncy give under her fingertips. The more she touched, the more she wanted to keep exploring that strange, addictive texture.
A faint, helpless sound escaped her throat.
She didn't notice she was still touching him. She didn't notice the water had gone still around her. She was utterly, shamelessly absorbed, her fingers tracing the defined ridges of his six-pack like she had discovered a new toy.
Seo Yunhan, feeling the touch linger far longer than washing required, was incredibly tense. His heart was pounding, and he could barely breathe. Finally, unable to resist any longer, he carefully lifted a corner of his blindfold just enough to peek at her face.
What he saw made him freeze.
Aran — fierce, proud, silver-haired Aran, who two minutes ago had been glaring at him like he was an idiot for apologizing too much — now staring at his stomach with glassy, half-lidded eyes, lips parted, a thin trail of saliva at the corner of her mouth, hand still moving slowly across his abdomen like she'd forgotten there was a person attached to it.
A slow, delighted grin spread across his face.
He let her continue for a few more seconds, simply watching, thoroughly amused and charmed, before finally clearing his throat.
"…Aran."
No response. Her fingers kept tracing idle lines over his stomach.
"Aran." He said it louder this time, fighting back a laugh.
That finally broke through. Her eyes snapped up to his face — and to the blindfold pushed up, and to the wide, unmistakably smug grin he was failing to hide.
The realization hit her like a slap.
‘…Oh gods. OH GODS. How long have I been—’
"UOO!" She yanked her hand back so violently she nearly capsized in the tub, water sloshing over the sides. Her whole face went up in flames, ears burning red to match.
"I-I wasn't—! That wasn't—!" The words slurred badly, but the sheer panic in her voice needed no translation.
Seo Yunhan let the blindfold drop back into place, shoulders shaking with poorly suppressed laughter.
"I didn't see anything," he said, voice far too cheerful to be convincing. "Nothing at all."
"UOO." Liar. Liar! You absolute— I will end you, you damn peony scholar—
But even as she cursed him in her head, she couldn't stop the burning heat crawling up her neck, or the memory of exactly how warm and springy his skin had felt beneath her palm.