On the clandestine nights when Sung, their enigmatic companion, slips away from the palace walls in disguise, a small cohort of them retreat to the solace of her atelier house. Though the daunting reality of needing the golden thread to return to Seoul looms over her, a flicker of hope ignites each time she swing open the creaking gate. But what if that elusive thread eludes her forever? With each passing day, she feel the chasm widening between herself and the world she once knew.
In the dimly lit confines of their refuge, Sung's voice breaks the silence, calling out her name. Relief washes over her, if only momentarily.
"Diana," he intones softly.
"I'm okay," Diana manage to reply, bolstered by the presence of the stalwart men who stand at her side. Yet, beneath the facade of composure, the weight of nights spent teetering between anxiety and fleeting solace grows heavier.
Within the hallowed halls of the Royal Tailors, where anticipation for the approaching new year permeates the air, Diana find herself amidst a whirlwind of activity. It has been a month since she was inducted into the esteemed ranks of the Royal Tailors, and at last, Diana stand amidst the hallowed chambers of the Gold-thread Tailors Office, where the coveted golden thread holds sway.
Reflecting on her journey thus far, Diana can't help but marvel at the twists of fate that have brought her here. Diana design for the retiring court lady has garnered recognition, even amidst the annals of Chosun dynasty. "You've done it, Diana Han," she whisper to herself in awe. "You're making your mark, even in a time not your own. You are truly remarkable."
Yet, beneath the veneer of success, a poignant truth lingers. For all Diana accomplishments in this bygone era, they will ultimately fade into oblivion once she return to Seoul, to her own time.
In the bustling corridors of the Royal Tailors, where the air hums with the anticipation of impending festivities, Diana's voice rings out, buoyant with excitement.
"What if I'm truly bestowed with a golden thread soon?!" she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I can hardly contain my excitement these days."
Amidst the tapestries and spools of fine silk, Diana finds herself summoned by the venerable Chief Tailor.
"Have you a moment, Diana?" the Chief Tailor inquires, her gaze assessing yet kind. "How fares your work? Are you settling in well?"
"Yes, ma'am," Diana replies, her voice tinged with gratitude. "The work is fulfilling, and everyone has been exceedingly kind to me."
The Chief Tailor nods approvingly, a glimmer of pride in her eyes. "I have faith in you, Diana," she says, her voice imbued with unwavering belief. "You show great promise, and I have every expectation that you will excel."
Though whispers of doubt may linger among some of her colleagues, the days of torment at the hands of cruel adversaries like Chayeon Ahn are but a distant memory. For Diana, it feels as though she has been granted a second chance at life, reborn amidst the splendor of Chosun.
"It is time for you to embark upon your own task, I believe," the Chief Tailor remarks, her tone gentle yet resolute.
"Oh my! Yes, of course," Diana exclaims, her heart aflutter with anticipation. "I shall endeavor to do my utmost."
With a warm chuckle, the Chief Tailor gestures toward the array of designs adorning the walls of the atelier.
"Come, Diana. Choose a design that speaks to you," she invites, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "I am eager to see what captures your imagination."
Upon the polished surface of the table lay an array of sketches, each depicting a different garment. From stately uniforms befitting officials to elegant women's attire, and even an officer's outfit adorned with intricate dragon embroidery, the designs spanned a breadth of styles and purposes.
Diana's brow furrowed as she surveyed the collection before her. "Is this some sort of test?" she mused aloud, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Strangely, each garment stirred memories within her, evoking the visages of familiar faces. A mauve long coat reminiscent of Officer Young, a green uniform that brought to mind the youthful vigor of Taesoo, an over-jacket whose hue echoed the regal presence of Lord Kooju. And finally, a blue officer's suit that seemed tailor-made for Lord Sung himself.
As she perused the designs, a curious sensation stirred within Diana's heart. Would the individuals who inspired these garments ever discover her handiwork?
"Ma'am, if I may inquire," Diana began tentatively, her gaze meeting that of the Chief Tailor. "Will the wearer of these garments know that I crafted them?"
"The wearer, you say?" the Chief Tailor echoed, a knowing twinkle in her eye.
Flustered, Diana hastily corrected herself. "Oh, I mean... the owner of the garments, of course," she stammered.
The Chief Tailor's laughter bubbled forth, filling the atelier with warmth. "Fear not, my dear," she reassured, her tone laced with amusement. "I have no intention of divulging your hand in their creation unless explicitly asked. But tell me, why the concern? Would you prefer the owners to be aware of your craftsmanship?"
Diana's cheeks flushed crimson as she waved off the notion with exaggerated gestures. "Oh, no, no, not at all, ma'am," she insisted, her words tumbling forth in a flustered rush.
Amused by her earnestness, the Chief Tailor chuckled softly, her laughter a melody of camaraderie in the hallowed halls of the atelier.
"Now, it's time to choose," the Chief Tailor declared, her voice a gentle command. "What kind of outfit do you wish to create?"
Diana hesitated, her gaze sweeping over the sketches laid out before her. "Oh, this is a difficult decision," she admitted. "But... I think I would like to try my hand at crafting an officer's suit."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. This would be the very garment worn by the prince himself—Lord Sung. Doubts gnawed at Diana's resolve. Was she truly capable of such a monumental task, being still a novice in the art of tailoring? Yet, the desire to fashion a suit for Lord Sung herself burned within her with an intensity she could not ignore.
The Chief Tailor regarded her choice with a thoughtful nod. "An interesting selection," she remarked. "Very well. Begin your work on the design you have chosen. I shall assign some senior gold-thread tailors to assist you in your endeavor. Do not hesitate to seek their guidance should you require it."
"Yes, ma'am!" Diana replied eagerly, her determination renewed by the Chief Tailor's confidence in her abilities.
And so, the arduous task commenced. Days blurred into nights as Diana poured her heart and soul into the creation of Lord Sung's officer suit.
Finally, the moment of reckoning arrived. With trembling hands, Diana beheld the fruits of her labor—the meticulously embroidered fabric, the carefully tailored silhouette.
"This is... unbelievable," she breathed, her eyes wide with wonder. "To think that I have crafted something so... exquisite."
As she traced the intricate patterns with her fingertips, a surge of anticipation coursed through her veins. What would Lord Sung say when he laid eyes upon his new attire? The mere thought filled her with a heady mix of nerves and excitement.
Her reverie was abruptly interrupted by the urgent voice of her colleague, Soyong.
"Diana Han!" Soyong called out, her voice tinged with urgency. "There you are! We must go to the Prince's Chamber at once!"
Diana's heart skipped a beat. "What? But... why? What does the Prince need with me?" she stammered, her mind whirling with apprehension.
"Yeah, aren't you curious to see how your handiwork will look on His Highness himself?" Soyong teased, her eyes dancing with mischief.
Diana's cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "Well, of course, I am... Very, very much," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
With a knowing grin, Soyong leaned in closer, her breath warm against Diana's ear. "His Highness called for you himself," she whispered conspiratorially.
"He did?!" Diana gasped, her heart leaping within her chest. "Then... he wishes to see me now?"
"Yes! So you'd better hurry, girl!" Soyong urged, her eyes alight with anticipation.
As Diana dashed through the corridors of the palace, her pulse quickened with each step. "Why is my heart racing so fast even before I start running?" she mused to herself, her breath coming in short gasps. "You need to calm down, Diana Han!"
Finally, she reached her destination—a secluded corner of the palace yard where Lord Sung and his attendants awaited her.
"He certainly commands attention, even from a distance," Diana thought, her gaze drawn to the imposing figure of the prince amidst his retinue.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Diana approached, her eyes lingering on the figure of Lord Sung. "He seems so different within the confines of the palace," she observed inwardly. "But... the outfit does look rather splendid on him, if I do say so myself."
As Sung catches sight of Diana approaching, his deep, enigmatic eyes meet hers, their depths seemingly unfathomable. The morning sunlight bathes his features in a warm glow, accentuating the curve of his smile—a smile as radiant and inviting as the sun itself.
"I see you've arrived," Diana remarks, her voice tinged with awe. "Can a man truly look so magnificent? I mean, I've always admired his handsome face..."
Caught in the spotlight of Sung's attention, Diana feels a nervous flutter in her stomach. "I can't possibly converse with him normally with all these eyes trained on me," she thinks, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "It's almost like a clandestine office romance straight out of the movies..."
Remembering Soyong's guidance, Diana attempts a clumsy bow in Sung's direction.
"Gold-thread tailor Diana Han of the Royal Tailors greets His Royal Highness," she stammers, her words punctuated by the nervous quiver of her voice.
Sung, who has been observing her with amusement, quirks an eyebrow and crosses his arms, a playful glint in his eye.
"Ah, that must be the clumsiest bow and greeting I've ever witnessed," he jests, his tone teasing.
Suppressing a pout, Diana leans in closer to Sung, her voice a whispered retort.
"Oh, come on! Seriously?" she chides him.
"Why do you sound so indignant?" Sung counters, his own voice lowered to match hers. "I was merely delighted to see you. And I must admit, it's rather cute to see you stumble a bit..."
"Cute...?" Diana echoes, her tone incredulous. "Oh, please. That's called teasing, you know!"
As Diana's brow furrows in confusion, Sung's smile widens into a broad grin, his laughter echoing through the corridor.
"Lady Diana, do you know what I excel at within these palace walls?" Sung asks, his tone playful.
Perplexed, Diana can only shake her head in bemusement. "Uh, what could it be...?" she ventures cautiously.
With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, Sung gestures towards a door at the far end of the hallway. "You see that door over there?" he prompts. "Go inside and count to 100."
Diana's eyes widen in disbelief. "Huh? Why on earth would I do that?" she protests.
"You'll find out soon enough," Sung replies cryptically, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
Before Diana can protest further, Sung straightens his posture and adopts a more formal demeanor.
"I must say, that was an ingenious way of weaving such exquisite embroidery," Sung declares, his voice projecting across the hallway.
Flustered by the unexpected praise, Diana stammers out a response. "...Y-yes, Your Highness. It was an honor to work on it, sir," she manages, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Satisfied, Sung nods in approval. "You've done well. You may take your leave now," he dismisses, before turning to depart with his retinue of attendants.
"Eh? That's it...?" Diana murmurs incredulously as she watches Sung's receding figure. "And now I'm supposed to go in there and count to 100...?"
Despite her lingering doubts, Sung shows no signs of reconsidering his command, his attention already focused on other matters.
With a resigned sigh, Diana braces herself for whatever lies beyond the door. "Well... here goes nothing," she mutters under her breath, her determination unwavering. "If this is another one of his jokes, he'll be hearing about it later."
In the hushed confines beyond the door, Diana's voice carries softly as she dutifully counts each number.
"Hmm... One... Two..." she murmurs, her footsteps echoing faintly against the walls.
As she nears the final stretch of her count, a sudden commotion erupts outside the door, the urgent voices of Sung's attendants mingling with sounds of panic.
"Your Highness?!"
"Has His Highness disappeared again?!"
"Where could he have vanished to?!"
Perplexed by the sudden chaos, Diana pauses mid-count, her brow furrowing in concern.
"Had he truly disappeared?" she wonders aloud, her thoughts racing. "What could be happening out there? Should I venture forth and assist in the search? No... I must stay true to my task. I promised to count to 100..."
Resuming her count with renewed determination, Diana focuses on the task at hand.
"Ninety-two... ninety-three..." she continues, each number a steady beat in the midst of the chaos beyond the door.
Suddenly, a familiar voice breaks through the silence, causing Diana's heart to skip a beat.
"You are doing great," Sung's voice murmurs, its warmth enveloping her like a comforting embrace.
Startled, Diana turns to see Sung's hand reaching out to gently tug at her sleeve.
"L-lord Sung...!" she gasps, her voice catching in her throat.
With a smile that lights up his entire face, Sung gestures for Diana to follow him.
"This way, Lady Diana," he urges, his excitement palpable.
Despite herself, Diana can't help but be swayed by Sung's infectious enthusiasm. Suppressing a laugh, she falls into step beside him, eager to uncover the mystery that awaits them. After all, who could resist the charm of a man with such a captivating smile?
As Sung leads Diana through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors, he only comes to a halt when they reach their destination—a door that leads to the King's side room.
"Is-isn't this His Majesty's side room...?!" Diana gasps, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Wh-why have you brought me here?!"
Sung's expression remains unperturbed as he calmly explains, "I know this place is currently unoccupied, so we should be safe."
"But that's not what I'm asking!" Diana insists, her voice tinged with frustration. "You know perfectly well what I mean! Why did you flee from your attendants?"
"I told you, I wanted to show you what I excel at," Sung replies with a playful twinkle in his eyes.
"And I still fail to see what that is... Wait, you mean... running away?" Diana's incredulity is palpable.
Sung nods, a hint of mischief dancing in his gaze. "Yes, it's something I often do with Taesoo."
Diana can't help but shake her head in bemusement. "You really shouldn't sound so proud of it—"
But before she can finish her sentence, a vivid image forms in her mind: Sung and Taesoo, laughing as they evade their pursuers together.
"Haha," Diana bursts into laughter, unable to contain her amusement at the thought.
Diana's laughter lingers in the air, a melodic echo of mirth amidst the solemnity of the palace walls.
"My lady, as delightful as your laughter is," Sung interjects, his tone gentle yet urgent, "I would prefer not to draw attention to ourselves. Please, keep your voice low."
Startled by Sung's sudden interruption, Diana nods sheepishly. "Oh... Right, sorry," she murmurs, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
As she steals a glance at Sung, she can't help but notice the graceful curve of his fingers as they press against her lips. They are large yet slender, captivating in their elegance. The thought crosses her mind to reach out and touch them, but she quickly dismisses the impulse with a nervous laugh.
"Huh? No, I'm not... touching, sorry!" Diana stammers, her cheeks reddening further under Sung's scrutinizing gaze.
Sung arches an eyebrow in amusement. "Touch? Where would you want to touch?" he inquires, his voice laced with playful curiosity.
Panicked by her slip of the tongue, Diana scrambles to recover. "Uh, w-wow, I've never been to a royal side room before," she stammers, her words tumbling out in a jumble. "It's so fancy... Haha..."
Sung's gaze remains fixed on her, his expression unreadable. "I'm hoping you'd elaborate more on that 'touch' part, Lady Diana," he remarks, his tone teasing.
"Touch? Touch what? I didn't say anything," Diana protests, her heart pounding in her chest.
Sung raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh, is that so?" he replies, his lips twitching with amusement.
Before Diana can formulate a response, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts their exchange. Acting on instinct, she pushes Sung into a nearby corner and slips in beside him, their breaths held in anticipation as the court ladies pass by, oblivious to their presence.
As the sound of approaching footsteps grows nearer, Diana's heart races with trepidation.
"Are they coming in?!" she whispers anxiously, her eyes wide with alarm. "Oh, thank goodness, they are just... walking... by..."
Sung regards her with a knowing smile, his eyes alight with amusement. "...Is that so?" he murmurs cryptically.
But as Diana's gaze falls upon their current predicament, her astonishment is palpable. "Oh my gosh, am I... sitting on top of a royal prince's body?" she gasps, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sung's smile only widens in response to Diana's incredulity. "Don't stand up just yet," he advises, his tone gentle yet firm. "You need to watch out..."
"For what...?" Diana queries, her confusion evident.
"For the attendants who are still looking for me," Sung explains, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that sends a shiver down her spine.
As Sung looks up at her from below, his appearance disheveled and yet undeniably regal, Diana finds herself inexplicably drawn to him. Without a second thought, she reaches out her hand, her fingers trembling slightly as they hover just above his cheek.
"I just want to..." Diana begins, her voice trailing off as she struggles to articulate her inexplicable desire. "...brush the dust off your cheek," she finally manages, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
As her fingertips make contact with Sung's soft, pale skin, a rush of warmth floods through her. "Wow, his cheeks are soft and pale," Diana muses to herself, her breath catching in her throat at the realization of their proximity.
But before she can fully comprehend the situation, Sung's eyes meet hers, his gaze intense and unwavering. Caught in his mesmerizing stare, Diana feels her resolve waver.
But just as she begins to lift herself from her precarious position, Sung's hand tightens around hers, anchoring her in place.
"S-Sung...?" Diana murmurs, her heart pounding in her chest as she meets his gaze.
As Sung sits up with Diana still perched upon his lap, their gazes lock in a moment of intense intimacy.
"I know I shouldn't want for more," Sung murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "So why am I...?"
His words hang in the air, tinged with unspoken longing, as his sweet breath brushes against Diana's nose. In that fleeting moment, the world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of them suspended in time.
Diana's heart pounds in her chest, the weight of Sung's confession settling heavily upon her. But before she can formulate a response, the moment passes, the words left unsaid dissolving into the depths of her heart.
[Somewhere In Palace]
On the journey back to the Royal Tailors, Diana's steps feel heavier than ever, burdened by the weight of unfinished business.
"Why did the suit have to get caught here...?" she laments, her thoughts drifting back to the mishap in the royal side room.
During their hasty retreat, the new suit Diana had crafted for Sung became entangled on a thorn protruding from a pillar, resulting in a tear.
"Don't mind it too much, my lady," Sung reassures her, his voice gentle yet reassuring.
Though Diana had promised to have someone repair the garment and deliver it to Sung, she finds herself unable to shake off the sense of responsibility. She longs to rectify her mistake herself, to ensure that the suit she had painstakingly crafted meets its intended recipient in perfect condition.
"Hey, Diana? Are you done fixing the clothes?" Soyong's voice interrupts her thoughts, pulling her back to the present moment.
"Yes, it's here!" Diana replies, a hint of relief evident in her voice. "Phew, I'm kind of relieved that I can see the result because I fixed it myself."
As exhaustion seeps into her bones, Diana stretches her arms, the weight of the day's events bearing down upon her. In the dim light of the workshop, the glint of leftover threads catches her weary eyes.
"Hmm... Can I keep just a few strands?" she wonders aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.
As she gathers the scattered remnants of her work, a sense of longing washes over her. These threads, though small and insignificant to others, hold a significance all their own—a connection to the man who had unknowingly captured her heart.
"You know, as a memento to remind me of this man when I return to Seoul," she muses softly, her fingers tracing the delicate strands.
With careful reverence, Diana collects the threads, each one a silent witness to the moments they had shared together.
"Yeah, it should be okay," she reassures herself, though a part of her knows that these threads hold a significance far greater than their physical form would suggest. "Well, it's not a big deal..."
But in truth, it is the least she could do to preserve the memory of her burning desire towards him—a silent tribute to the fleeting moments they had shared amidst the grandeur of the palace walls.