A week had passed.
The days in Seo Yunhan’s mansion fell into a strange but strangely peaceful routine.
Every morning, Aran was carried to the dining hall and settled on Seo Yunhan’s lap. Every evening, he would carry her out to the garden for a walk. And every evening, without fail, they ended up on the same wooden bench beside the lake.
At first, it was Aran who initiated the kisses — leaning up with fierce determination. By the third day, Seo Yunhan had begun to lean in first. His kisses grew deeper, longer, and more confident with each passing sunset.
Her recovery was slow, but steady.
She still couldn’t speak clearly. She still couldn’t walk. But she could feel her body changing. The blocked meridians inside her were gradually opening. Strength was returning, little by little.
Seo Yunhan had apparently spent three entire nights designing the special wheeled chair himself. He had consulted with the estate’s carpenter in hushed, embarrassed tones, refusing to explain why he needed a chair small enough for a woman who couldn’t sit upright on her own. The result was a beautifully crafted stroller-like seat with soft cushions and a small silver bell attached to a string she could pull with her mouth.
Two rings meant she was hungry.
Three rings meant she needed the bathroom.
Four rings meant she wanted to go to the garden.
Today, she had rung the bell four times.
The servants carefully placed her in the chair and pushed her along the garden path. The wheels rolled smoothly over the stones, the little bell jingling softly with every movement.
Aran leaned back, feeling the warm sunlight on her face and the gentle breeze through her silver hair.
She still couldn’t walk.
She still couldn’t speak properly.
But for the first time since the curse began, she didn’t feel completely hopeless.
Because every time Seo Yunhan held her, every time he kissed her, she could feel her body healing — slowly, surely.
She looked down at the silver bell and gave the string a small, experimental tug.
Jingle.
A soft, almost reluctant smile touched her lips.
*‘…This damn peony scholar. I’ll use you until I’m fully recovered.’*
She pulled the string again.
Jingle. Jingle.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard the sound of hurried footsteps.
Aran closed her eyes, letting the warm afternoon sun wash over her.
For now, she would stay.