A soft, warm breeze caresses her skin, making her sink deeper beneath the sheets.

Joohyun knows it’s time to wake up and start the day, yet this bed is so comfy and she’s so tired. But a small humming noise is pulling her out of her blissful sleep.

Instinctively, her hand slips out of the sheets, reaching for her phone on the nightstand; there’s nothing worse than being half-awake and your alarm blaring in your ear.

Joohyun keeps reaching for her phone, but her hand repeatedly swipes at thin air only to hit the side of the bed.

That’s when her eyes fly open. In one big rush, the night before comes back to her. The room was overflowing with people. The angry man who thought he was her husband.

1876.

1876.

18 ing 76. 

This isn’t happening. Last night Joohyun told herself it was a dream—an elaborate dream that only a crazy imagination could spin. But she’s still here.

“What is happening to me?” She whispers.

When Joohyun was a kid, her family used to for being a daydreamer. Her mom was convinced that she was a lucid dreamer who could control the narrative of her dreams. If that were the case though, she’d be lying in her bed right now.

“Wake up, Joohyun,” she says. “You have to wake up.”

Movement coming from the other side of the room yanks her out of her panic.

Joohyun sits up in bed and sees a woman quietly moving about.

The woman is wearing a pale green hanbok with a white muslin apron tied around her waist. There’s not a trace of makeup on her face, and her long black hair is pulled back in a tight chignon secured by white bamboo pins. 

The woman appears to be in her late teens or early twenties.

Once she sees Joohyun is staring at her, she gives her a small smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Son.”

Joohyun's heart beats against her rib cage as she watches this small woman. Her ears ring, and Joohyun is pretty sure that what she’s feeling is the beginning of a heart attack.

Good morning, Mrs. Son.

The woman's words echo in her ears, gaining momentum with each passing second until it’s all she can hear.

With both hands placed over her racing heart, Joohyun stares blindly at the stark white sheet draped across her legs. She went to bed convinced that when she woke up, everything would be back to normal.

In the harsh light of day, everything seems worse. She feels as though she drank all night long and now has the world’s worst hangover.

Her thoughts are running at lightning speed. What is she doing here? How did she get here? And the best of all—how does she escape this nightmare?

What she needs to do is take a deep breath and think things through. Panicking and freaking out won’t get her anywhere.

Last night, in her own time, she argued with Sehun. She remembers him tossing the picture in the fire.

Joohyun remembers trying to remove it but being too late. She remembers sitting on the couch and getting up to throw the charred remains of the picture back into the fire. That’s when she out.

And then she was here.

And then she met Seungwan.

And then he told her she was his wife.

It can’t be right.

When Joohyun glances at her left hand, she sees a massive diamond on her ring finger.

She’s one hundred percent sure that wasn’t on her finger when she went to bed. Besides, this monstrosity of a ring would be damn near impossible to ignore. Her engagement ring from Sehun doesn’t come close to this thing.

If that’s changed since last night, what else has?

Joohyun looks down and sees that her dress is gone, replaced with a long, white nightgown with lace trim. She grabs the thin material and pulls it away from her body.  She knows she doesn’t own a piece of clothing like this.

Joohyun doesn’t remember changing herself. Who did then? Sooyoung?

Last night, she was in such complete shock over Seungwan words that she didn’t take in the room.

Glancing around, Joohyun notices she's resting upon a large yet low wooden bed. Carved dragons and phoenixes twist along the polished teak frame.  She lies upon fine mulberry silk sheets and duvets stuffed with goose down.

On the pine end table next to her sits a oil lamp, its glass shade painted with scenes of pine trees. Beside it are the photo and magazine she noticed earlier. Through half open rice paper window panels, the morning sun illuminates the room.

Joohyun gets out of bed and walks to the closest window.

Curling her hands around the lip of the window frame, she stares outside. There are no blacktop roads with cars flying by. What she thought was perhaps might be a road for a car to drive last night is confirmed wrong in the daylight.

In the courtyard below, servants prepare for the day's duties. Water gurgles in a stone fountain at the garden's heart, its basin embedded with smoothed river pebbles. Iris and chrysanthemums bloom amid trimmed azalea hedges bordering fragrant lawns of freshly cut grass.

Joohyun continues to stand there and observe everything for a few minutes, noticing how the only things that can be heard are the birds chirping and the wind making the leaves rustle.

The lack of honking horns, car doors slamming and voices should be harmonious. Soothing. But all it does is make the hairs on her arms stand up. It only magnifies her situation and highlights how far out of her element she genuinely is.

With a shaky sigh, she turns around and runs straight into the lady who’s been in here since she woke up.

The woman takes a quick step back and nervously holds out a white silk garment. Almost in supplication.

Joohyun stares at it in confusion. “What’s this?”

The woman frowns. “Your dressing gown.” She calls it a dressing gown, but to Joohyun, it’s a pretty version of a robe.

They watch each other warily, neither of them saying a word. After a few seconds, Joohyun reluctantly puts on the robe. The woman briskly turns on her heels and opens up the narrow closet doors and the armoire on the opposite side of the room.

Joohyun peeks into both clothes chest. They’re packed to the hilt with clothes.

She steps back from the closets and lets the lady go about her business. How can Joohyun ask her what her name is without sounding like a complete moron?

Then Joohyun thinks of something, “Is... Sooyoung up?”

The lady whips around and gawks at her with wide-eyed fear. “No, ma’am. Not that I’m aware of.”

“Oh.”

The woman stands there, her back ramrod straight and doesn’t say another word. Neither does Joohyun.

Then a short, sturdy woman comes barreling into the room with folded white sheets in her arms. She gives the maid a once-over and her already thin lips flatten into a thin line. “Nayeon! What are you doing standing there? Help Mrs. Son!”

Nayeon. So she does have a name. Joohyun thought.

When the haggard older lady looks at Joohyun, she gives her an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. She’s new. This won’t happen again.”

Joohyun is hardly coming to terms with what’s happening, and everything coming from sounds like a different language.

It takes her a few seconds to reply. “She’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

The lady appears taken aback before she quickly says her goodbye. She leaves the room, but not before she casts Nayeon a murderous expression.

The second the door closes, Nayeon turns to her, her eyes watering. “Ma’am, I’m so sor—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Hurriedly, Joohyun rushes forward and grips Nayeon's hands. “I need you to answer one thing for me.”

She nods warily.

“Where are we?”

Nayeon frowns. “Excuse me?”

“Where are we?” Joohyun asks hesitantly. She prays for an answer of the capital city.

The maid considers her response carefully. “This is Hanyang, near the palace district.”

Relief washes over Joohyun at the name of the capital, yet unease remains. She has only read of Hanyang in books. Never has she walked its storied streets until now.

Joohyun drops her hands and steps away. A stronger breeze comes through the window, carrying in the faint smell of flowers and fresh air. Fresh air that Joohyun have no chance of getting in Seoul.

And out of everything that’s happened to her over the course of the past few hours, that’s the one thing she reacts to.

Joohyun slaps a hand over . “I’m gonna be sick.”

Nayeon rushes forward, concern written across her features, and guides her toward a closed door.

The whole time Joohyun breathes deeply through her nose, fighting the urge to retch.

When she can bear it no more, Joohyun hurriedly slides open the latticed door to the side chamber.

Joohyun falls to her knees and heaves violently into the ash pit. Again and again her stomach contracts until there is nothing left. Trembling, she uses the ladle to rinse and face with cold water from the jug.

How the hell is this possible? Something like this shouldn’t happen. But it is. Sure, she can continue pretending this is all a dream, but it’s time to face the truth.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?”

Joohyun lifts her head and swallows, ignoring the burning sensation lingering in . “I’m fine.”

But she’s not fine. In fact, she’s so far from fine that fine is a black speck to her.

She feels lost.

Like a tornado picked up her entire life and randomly dropped her in some unknown place where she’s surrounded by people she’s never met. And the fact that those people think she’s someone else makes it worse.

Thinking about the entire situation makes her want to vomit again. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, she finally pushes away from the pit.

“Would you prefer to lie back down?” Nayeon asks. Joohyun tries to blink the maid into focus, but there’s so much running through her mind it’s impossible.

“If I lie down, I doubt I’ll get back up.”

That might be the most honest thing Joohyun has said in hours.

“Are you ill? I can send for the physician if you’d like.”

“No,” Joohyun replies. “No. I’m good.”

A wet washcloth dangles in front of her. Joohyun grabs it and croaks out thanks before she places the warm rag on her face. After a few seconds, she lowers the rag and takes another deep breath.

Beside her, Nayeon fidgets, shifting from foot to foot. Joohyun thinking that Nayeon is probably thought she's crazy.

Hell, even Joohyun herself feels crazy.

She never says a word though. Joohyun quietly observes the privy.

The toilet has a wooden rim seat. The tile floor is a black-and-white checkerboard. The walls are painted a pale pink to her horror.

Within the small chamber is a pit lined with smoothed stones between wooden frames. A jug and ladle sit upon a low table, its surface worn smooth by use.

The walls are plain whitewashed plaster, hung with drying herbs. Light filters down from an open space above protected by latticed wood.

Nearby is a large wooden tub sits empty, its surface worn smooth. A simple cloth partition hangs from an iron rod, providing modest privacy.

“Do you need my help?” Nayeon quietly asks.

Gripping the rag tightly in both hands, Joohyun shakes her head and gets up.

Wordlessly, Nayeon leaves the privy with her following her.

Joohyun goes back to the closet while she surveys the vanity against the wall. Perfumes bottles are lined up in a neat row. A gold gilt comb and hairbrush are angled to the side.

Perched on the edge of the table is a vintage curling iron that resembles a pair of gardening shears rather than something to wrap your hair around.

“Is this on?” Joohyun asks.

The maid shakes her head. “Do you want your hair curled today, ma’am?”

“No. I...” With one quick glance in the mirror, she sees that her hair resembles a rat’s nest. It’s a disaster, but there’s no way in hell she’s letting her get near her hair with that fire hazard. “I’ll put it in a ponytail.”

Again, with the funny look. Joohyun is starting to think that’s the only expression Nayeon is capable of giving.

“What would you like to wear today?”

“I’ll wear my dress from last night.”

Nayeon's cheeks flush slightly. She turns back to the clothes storage chest for a moment, lifting the lacquered lid. With care, she lifts two stacks of folded fabrics from within.

“This silk hanbok came recently from the market, I think this will be very flattering on you.” Nayeon said, smoothing its fine cream weave. “And here is a navy skirt with gauze overlay - the panels will flow beautifully when you walk.”

All Joohyun can think is that she should be wearing her clothes, not someone else’s. “Where are my clothes?”

Nayeon lowers her hand and stares at Joohyun with wide, fearful eyes. “I only did I what I was told, ma’am!”

“What happened to my dress?” Joohyun repeats.

“Seungwan took it,” Sooyoung says as she breezes into the room.

At the interruption, Nayeon appears so relieved, Joohyun's convinced that Nayeon is going to pass out.

“What do you mean he took it?”

Sooyoung her head to the side. “Exactly what I said. He took the dress and ordered it to be destroyed. Which is a shame; the design and straight lines were simply flawless. Even Nayeon was fascinated. Weren’t you, Nayeon?”

Nayeon nods rapidly, resembling a bobblehead doll. At this point, Joohyun thinks the girl would agree to anything just to leave this room.

Sooyoung grins mischievously and leans in toward her. “I helped change you and we must talk about your undergarments. Wherever did you get that chest wraps?”

“Uhh...” Pulling the nightgown away from her, Joohyun glances at her bra and then Sooyoung. She drops the material and struggles to come up with an answer. “I bought it from this one French merchant?”

“What is it called?”

“A bra?” Joohyun replies, uncertainly.

Sooyoung looks fascinated, but Joohyun has more pressing matters to focus on. Like getting her clothes back. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know about the bra, but first, you need to tell me why Seungwan took away my clothes.”

“I know you like to push boundaries, but lasts night’s outfit was too much for him. So he got rid of it,” Sooyoung explains cheerfully.

Seungwan. Oh, this guy. Not even hours after meeting him, Joohyun already hates him. “Where is he?”

“He’s downstairs eating breakfast.”

Joohyun charges out of the room, but at the last second, Sooyoung jumps in her path.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I want my clothes back.”

Sooyoung laughs and gestures to the open closet bursting at the seams with dresses. “Silly, they’re all right there.”

Joohyun shakes her head and walks around Sooyoung. “You don’t get it.”

Joohyun has no idea where she’s going. But that doesn’t matter. She has anger as her compass. She’ll find Seungwan one way or another.

Joohyun knows she’s overreacting. It’s a simple dress that she wasn’t particularly attached to. But that dress was hers. Better yet, it was one of the only links to her time, and he took it away as if her possessions are his.

The second floor is bigger than she anticipated. She gets lost twice before she finds the staircase. Her robe billows out around her as she flies down the stairs.

The same man who stood at the front door last night is back again, only this time he notices her. Shock is written across his face.

“My lady, maid Nayeon is more than happy to help you get dressed,” he says. "I think it—"

“I’m fine,” Joohyun cuts in.

In all actuality, Joohyun is not. Once again, she becomes lost, as she wanders around unfamiliar rooms.

Passing sliding screens painted with birds in plum orchards, she glimpses private chambers and studies tucked within. After another turn, she returns to the man.

He gestures towards the eastern wing. “Four doors, you will find the meal hall, where Master Son awaits with breakfast. Please, this way for ease of mind.”

“Thank you.” Joohyun pauses, waiting for him to give her his name.

“The name is Taeil, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Taeil.”

Finally, Joohyun finds the dining room.

For a second, she stands in the massive doorway and takes a deep breath and stares at the room in awe.

Her eyes follow carved wooden panelling running the full height. Beyond, papered screens showcase embroidered bamboo in shimmering gold threads.

The warm wash lights from the windows the long polished table , easily seating twenty guests according to tradition. Yet this morning only four cushions are laid.

Reality comes slamming back into her as the person at the head of the table lowers the newspaper.

“Ah, the master of the house!” Joohyun remarks dryly.

Seungwan arches a brow. “Good morning.” There’s nothing pleasant about his greeting.

“You and I need to talk.”

He deliberately inspects her, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Sleep did nothing to ease his anger. If anything, he seems further enraged. “Couldn’t find anything to wear this morning?”

Ignoring his question, Joohyun hurries forward. She doesn’t stop until she’s right next to his chair. “Give me back my clothes.”

“My darling wife,” Seungwan drawls, “you have to be more specific.”

Joohyun swallows down the urge to snap at this man. “The dress I wore last night. I want it back.”

Seungwan snorts loudly and goes back to scanning the papers, where it has latest news from the capital. “That wasn’t a dress. More like a piece of cloth stretched over your body.”

“I happened to like that piece of cloth. Now give it back.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“Why?”

Seungwan turns the page. “I had one of the servants burn it.”

 

You moron!”

Seungwan drops the papers on the table.

If she weren't living off of adrenaline, she would’ve shrunk away from the dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Instead, Joohyun stares right back, refusing to back down. Seungwan looks like the kind of man who feeds on fear.

Usually, she’s not this bold. But the anger and frustration of being trapped in an unknown place have been simmering inside her. And Sooyoung telling her that Seungwan took something of hers has finally given her a channel to direct her anger at someone.

“Excuse me?” he finally asks.

“Are you deaf? I called you a moron. That was my dress, and you had no right to take it away, let alone burn it.”

“Technically, it was my dress because I paid for it.”

“No, I paid for it,” Joohyun shoots back.

Seungwan closes his eyes and rubs his upper lip. “God. Can you please get dressed?”

“I’m trying, but you’re making it hard for that to happen.”

“You have closets filled with clothes. I’m sure you can find something.” Seungwan lifts the newspaper as though the conversation is effectively over.

Joohyun has never had someone so blatantly dismiss her. Forget taking a deep cleansing breath or counting to ten.

This dude is an . Joohyun snatches the newspaper out of his hands. His eyes turn murderous.

Slowly, Seungwan leans back. “What has you so bothered this morning? Are you upset your party ended early?”

“That wasn’t my party.”

Seungwan tilts his head back and laughs loudly. Her anxiety only heightens. His laughter fades and there’s the smallest trace of a smile on his face, but his eyes are cold as they sweep over her. “Who knew you could be so funny?”

“I’m not being funny. I’m telling the truth.” Joohyun takes a deep breath. There’s going to be no opportune time to tell him the truth, so why not now? “Look. I get that you think I’m your wife, but the truth is—”

“What are you two hollering about so early?” Johnny says as he breezes into the room.

“It’s eight in the morning,” Seungwan points out.

“For me, that’s early.”

“Some people are already up and gettin’ ready for work, Johnny.”

Johnny winces. “Don’t say that vile word.”

Johnny snatches a piece of fruit from the middle of the table and walks past her, but not before he musses her hair and smirks. “Joohyun. You’re looking ravishing as always.”

She can’t tell if Johnny is being serious or not. She continues to glare at Seungwan.

Johnny sits to her left and stares between Seungwan and her. “Does either of you care to explain what you are arguing about?”

“No,” Seungwan says at the same time she says, “Yes.”

She points at Seungwan. “I need to talk to this douchebag, but he won’t listen.”

Johnny's brows raise. “I’m not familiar with the term douchebag, but it doesn’t sound nice.” He turns to Seungwan. “Does it, brother?”

Seungwan ignores him and stands. Joohyun takes a small step back. She forgot how tall he is - almost 2 meter tall.

Last night, he was a hot mess. This morning he’s a bit more presentable. Seungwan is wearing a blue jeogeori, and his undershirt is pristine white.

 He’s freshly shaved, which only reveals how pronounced his features are, making him more handsome—gorgeous even. Joohyun thought briefly.

“I need to go; I’m late for work.”

Joohyun follows him. “Forget the dress; I have something more important to talk to you about.”

Abruptly, Seungwan turns around, making her run straight into him. She stumbles back a few steps.

Instead of reaching out to steady her, Seungwan remains perfectly still. He raises both brows and glances at her impatiently. “Well?”

Joohyun knows what she needs to say. She just doesn’t know how to say it without coming off as a complete psychopath.

“I think I know what you want to talk to me about,” Seungwan says arrogantly. He slides a slender cloth pouch from within his robes, untying the string to rummage its contents.

“I think I know what you want to talk to me about,” Seungwan says arrogantly. He slides a slender cloth pouch from within his robes, untying the string to rummage its contents.

Joohyun gently pushed the pouch back towards his stomach. “I don’t want your money. I already told you this isn’t about the dress.”

Seungwan appears momentarily shocked, but quickly his mask of indifference is back in place. “Then there’s nothing to discuss.”

He tucks his wallet back into his robes and walks away from her.

It takes her a few seconds, but Joohyun manages to block his path. Seungwan dodges right. So does she. He feigns left. She follows.

She becomes his shadow, matching him move for move until he grips her shoulders painfully and turns her until her back is against the wall.

Seungwan chest brushes against her own. The scent of his aftershave wafts around her. She gasps for breathe, some part of her is scared.

“Stop it.” Joohyun dips his head until their eyes are level. “I’m leaving for work. I don’t care what tricks you have up your sleeve. All right? I don’t care.”

opens. AlleJoohyun needs is a few seconds to explain that what’s happening is all a giant misunderstanding. She shares his wife’s likeness and name.

That’s it

But Seungwan holds up his hand and quickly speaks. “Go. Leave my sight.”

Seyngwan's hands drop to his sides like dead weights. He gives her one last cold stare and walks away.

“Don’t look so sad. He’ll get over it in a few days,” Johnny says gently.

Turning, she sees Johnny leaning against the wall, casually eating an apple. He appears nonplussed by what he saw.

“We fight a lot,” Joohyun says bluntly.

“All the time,” Johnny replies jovially.

“And he always leaves.”

“That depends on how bad the fight is. The two of you like to go back and forth—sometimes he leaves, sometimes you leave. Well... you more than sometimes leave.” Johnny arches a brow. “You leave a lot.”

Why does she feel like leave is a word for something else entirely?

Johnny doesn’t necessarily seem angry with her, but he isn’t happy. She doesn’t want to think about what this other Joohyun has done.

She wants to tell him that she’s not like this person he’s describing. Not even close. It’s not in her nature to do those things.

But there’s no time to explain that to him.

At that moment, Sooyoung comes down one of the staircases. “Morning, everyone,” she says in a sing-song voice. She smiles at Johnny then glances at her before she does a double take. “Oh, my. I see you’re still not dressed.”

What’s with these people? Could they not see I was wearing clothes? Frustrated, Joohyun drops her face into her hands.

Sooyoung comes up to her and places a palm flat against her forehead. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m fine. Just pissed off.”

Sooyoung appears confused by her words but doesn’t comment. She pats Joohyun's back as if Joohyun is a child with a stomachache. “You know what I do when I’m upset?”

“What?” Joohyun says, not bothering to lift her head.

“I like to say out loud all the good things I have in my life.” Sooyoung stands in front of her.

Raising her head, Joohyun looks at Sooyoung. “Repeat after me. I’m Joohyun Son.”

Her blood runs cold but Joohyun finds herself repeating her words. “I’m Joohyun Son.”

“I’m married to Son Seungwan, the man I’ve been married to for three years.”

Joohyun stumbles over those words, finding them impossible to believe.

“I have friends who care about me.“And I have a wonderful sister-in-law, Sooyoung.” Sooyoung winks and steps back. “There. Don’t you feel better?”

“Oh, just peachy.”

Sooyoung gives her a bright smile. “Well, why don’t you get dressed and we can have a lovely breakfast together?”

Getting dressed, having breakfast, and pretending that everything is okay? Not going to happen. Time is passing her by, and Joohyun is so afraid that if she doesn’t try to find a way back home, she never will.

Bottom line, she needs answers.

Fast.

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Joohyun announces.

The smile vanishes from Sooyoung's face. “What?”

“I have some things I need to say to your brother.”

“Which brother? Johnny?” she asks hopefully.

“No. Seungwan.”

Her face falls. “That’s what I was afraid of. Whatever it is, don’t you think it can wait until later? If you go to his workplace, it’s only gonna make matters worse.”

Her reasoning doesn’t sink in for Joohyun because Joohyun doesn’t plan on being here long enough to watch this unhealthy marriage further crumble.

“No. It can’t wait.” Joohyun hurries up the stairs. “I’m getting dressed, and I’m gonna go talk to him.”

things i can confirm : this story has many chapters, and the pace is like this..i'm not sure if it's too slow? 

and lol, my mind get very hard thinking suitable word to describe their house and clothes from Joseon era theme...that's why i just insert they sometimes wearing hanbok and wearing western late 19th century fashion..