The war was over, but the capital remained restless.
For years, the court had been split between two factions: the Crown Prince's faction, backed by the formidable Choi clan — the Queen's family, who held influence over half the ministries in the palace — and the much weaker faction of Grand Prince Unseong, son of a royal concubine, who had little standing of his own and survived largely on the strength of his Chancellor, Seo Yunhan.
It was an uneven rivalry by any measure. And Baek Jinho, having spent the last several years on the northern border, returned to a capital he barely recognized — one where his distant relative Baek Muhyeok's sudden disappearance had thrown the balance of power further out of reach for the side he was now expected to serve.
Baek Jinho arrived at Il-yang-gwan early. The Crown Prince had sent word that he would be delayed.
He waited near the entrance of a private room, the low murmur of the restaurant drifting through the thin walls.
For the past month, he had been searching relentlessly for his distant relative. As Baek Muhyeok's closest subordinate and successor, he had taken command of what remained of the General's forces, but his mind was never at ease. The Flower General had vanished without a trace after that final night at the border. No body. No witness. Only a vague rumor that the enemy Saintess had cursed him somehow — though no one seemed to know what that meant, or whether it was even true.
Tonight, waiting alone, the wine tasted like ash.
Then the commotion started.
"The Chancellor has arrived!" "With his Lady!"
Jinho paused, standing near the hallway.
Instead of the Chancellor, he saw a small woman with beautiful silver hair being gently wheeled down the hallway in a specially made chair. She was surrounded by attentive servants.
Jinho’s breath caught.
She was stunning. Delicate face, large round eyes, an almost doll-like beauty. She looked nothing like the tall, imposing Flower General he remembered.
He stared, unable to look away.
The woman was sitting on the mobile chair in a crouched, four-limbed position. It was an incredibly strange sight — yet somehow it looked strangely natural on her.
His gaze locked onto her eyes. Those deep brown eyes… they were unmistakably Baek Muhyeok’s.
Then his eyes slowly traveled downward — from her eyes to her nose, to her lips, to her chin, then to her full breasts, and finally to her two hands resting on the chair like front paws.
He quickly looked back up to meet her eyes again.
Baek Jinho was utterly confused.
The great General he had searched for so desperately had returned as a beautiful woman — sitting in such a bizarre posture.
“My apologies,” he said stiffly, lowering his gaze. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
“Jji…ho—!”
The sound was slurred, broken, barely human.
But it struck him like lightning.
Jinho’s hand slammed against the wall. His entire body froze.
Slowly — painfully slowly — he turned his head.
The silver-haired woman was staring straight at him. Her large eyes were wide open, filled with shock, desperation, and something fiercely familiar.
Those eyes…
His heart slammed violently against his ribs. Because those eyes — fierce, furious, and unmistakably alive — belonged to someone who was supposed to be dead.
Baek Jinho stared back at her, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.
“…General?”
Aran’s eyes filled with tears. She opened her mouth desperately, trying to speak.
“Jji…ho—! A-ni—! Na—!”
But the words wouldn’t come out properly. Only broken, fractured sounds escaped her throat.
Jinho’s face went deathly pale.
It’s really her. Alive. Here.
He took a shaky step forward, ignoring the frozen servants around him, his mind reeling with a hundred questions he didn’t know how to ask.
“General… what happened to you?”