When Joohyun was fifteen, she had the bright idea to try out for the school play. She wasn’t particularly dramatic, although she did have her moments.

Typically, she clammed up in front of a crowd. But her friends were trying out, so she thought, “What the hell?”

The play was A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She was trying out for the role of Hermia—a girl caught in a love triangle between Lysander, a man she loves, and Demetrius, who loves her but she doesn’t love back.

It seemed simple enough. She studied the lines over and over. She had the script down pat.

The day of tryouts, she walked up on stage nailed every line. Joohyun stepped off the stage feeling pretty damn confident in herself. This acting thing? A piece of cake.

Two days later, the roles were announced. Her name was not across from Hermia. Or any character for that matter. She was more embarrassed than anything else.

Why didn’t she get it?

Joohyun was competitive by nature and couldn’t stop herself from asking one of the teachers directing the play what she’d done wrong.

The teacher sighed and smiled gently at her. “It wasn’t a matter of you not knowing the part. It was us believing in you as Hermia. There was no conviction or feeling in your words.”

The teacher patted her shoulder. “Acting might not be for you.”

Her explanation never resonated with Joohyun. But it does now, more than ever, because she’s been forced into playing the role of Joohyun the socialite, wife of Seungwan and best friend to Sooyoung, and it feels all wrong.

It’s day two of being in this time, and already she’s questioning everything she does, everything she says.

Joohyun feels as though her actions are scrutinized by everyone. Which is impossible. But her mind is screaming at her that she’s playing a role she doesn’t understand and never will.

The only person who notices is the one person who goes out of his way to ignore her–Seungwan.

Last night Seungwan came home, but instead of having dinner with Sooyoung and her, he had his dinner in his office.

Afterward, Joohyunknocked on his door; Seungwan didn’t answer. She pounded on the door, but that didn’t earn a reaction.

After a few minutes, her arm became sore, and her fist ached. She gave up pounding and grabbed a chair from the receiving room—whatever that means—and planted herself right in front of Seungwan door.

Joohyun stayed there for so long that her went numb. It’s almost as if Seungwan knew she was stubbornly sitting outside his door, because not once did he leave the room.

While Joohyun sat there, fuming, she decided that until she found a way to get back home, she would refer to the Joohyun she’d replaced as the Old Joohyun.

Eventually she nodded off and was awoken by Sooyoung gently shaking her. The house was shrouded in darkness and Sooyoung was dressed for bed.

“He’s not gonna leave his office,” Sooyoung whispered sympathetically. “Why don’t you go to bed? You can speak to him tomorrow.”

It must have been the sleep-induced haze that made her agree. Joohyun left the chair in the middle of the foyer and went to bed.

She went downstairs the next morning, and the chair was gone. The office door was cracked open, but there was no Seungwan in sight.

What she wanted to ask him, more than anything was this—what happened between you and your wife that made you hate her so much? She knew the chance of her ever getting an answer was incredibly slim.

Besides, right now, she has more pressing matters.

"Please, Mrs. Son. Put this on." Nayeon holds up the corset and gives her a pleading look.

Joohyun points at the corset that she needs to wear for the dress as though it's a rabid dog. "No way, no how."

Getting dressed in this era is an event all of its own. Women change up to three times a day. Even Sooyoung prefers to lie around all the time; she's too exhausted from all the changing.

Even now Sooyoung's on the bed, arms flung over her head, staring at the canopy.

With a loud sigh, she jumps off the bed and snatches the rib killer contraption from Nayeon before waving it in front of Joohyun's face. "This is what women wear."

"No, this is going to be what kills me!"

"How do you think you get your tiny waist?" Sooyoung challenges.

"It may look good, but I've decided I don't want my organs smushed together."

Sooyoung stands beside her and lays the corset flat against her waist. "Beauty is pain." She stares at Joohyun in the mirror with imploring eyes.

The only reason Joohyun entertains the idea of wearing Old Joohyun's clothes is that she had to relinquish her underwear to be washed.

She wants to keep all her clothes, but she also prefers to be clean too. Nayeon reassured her twenty times over she would clean them and bring them back to her.

Now she's stuck in a pair of underwear Sooyoung keeps calling drawers.

"I'm not going to be able to breathe with that thing on."

"Joohyun, no one is arguing that it's comfortable. But it is... it is necessary."

"Why?"

"Because it's feminine," Sooyoung whispers as though letting her in on a little secret. "Without a corset, the jewels, the hat? Why, I daresay, no one would know who you are."

With a deep breath, Joohyun snatches the corset from her and gives it to Nayeon. "Put it on."

Sooyoung smiles gleefully and claps. "Wonderful."

What Joohyun will never tell Sooyoung is that with every tug of the laces, with every breath stolen from her, she's reminded she's on borrowed time.

The seconds, minutes, and hours are slipping away. Joohyun can feel it. And she knows, with every fiber of her being, these are minutes she can never get back in her own time.

By the time Nayeon has finished lacing her up, her waist is so narrow that when she places her hands on it, her middle fingers practically touch. She turns to the side.

Plus, it does wonderful things to her s.

But it comes at a cost. She’s confident this corset is crushing a few ribs.

“I’m so excited I hardly slept a wink last night,” Sooyoung confesses.

“Because of a brunch?”

“Of course! Why else? Your parents’ brunches are by far the most entertaining events to attend.”

Joohyun nods as if she knows exactly what Sooyoung means.

Outside comes the faint sound of a carriage pulling up. Sooyoung looks out the window and squeals.

“Seungwan and Johnny are here. I’m going to say hello and let you finish up."

Joohyun waits for the door to click shut before she looks at Nayeon. “What time is it?”

“Twelve.”

Joohyun smiles. “Thank you.”

There’s a stubborn side of her. In her own time, it rarely shows up, but around Seungwan, it rears its ugly head, and right now, it’s telling her that Seungwan can take his, 'Be ready at twelve sharp' and shove it.

“Joohyun! I know you’re up there. Come down here! Right. Now.” Seungwan voice's travels like a gunshot through the house. She swears everyone within a mile just stopped and held their breath.

“We best hurry, ma’am.”

Joohyun smiles. “We’re not going anywhere. Mr. Son can it.”

Nayeon looks confused by her words, but the implication is there. Her cheeks turn beet red.

“Besides,” Joohyun says, “I still haven’t figured out what to wear.”

There are so many dresses in the closets from traditional to westerns, but they’re not her taste; the Old Joohyun loved bright colors.

More importantly, Old Joohyun loved pale yellow. Joohyun hates that color. Nevertheless, the detail that went into each of these dresses leaves her slightly awestruck.

Not to mention the designers: Lady Duff Gordon, Jeanne Paquin, Jacques Doucet and that was to name a few. 

Joohyun knows she's touching items that are preserved in museums in her time.

Nayeon selects an ivory dress with navy stripes with a sash in the same color. Her hands shake as she buttons Joohyun up.

“Take your time. There’s no need to rush.” Joohyun says.

“But Mr. Son. He—”

“Leave Seungwan to me. I’ll take the blame for being late.”

Nayeon nods mutely and ties the sash around her waist, and she selects a pair of ivory lace-and-kid gloves. This time, Joohyun accepts them.

Then comes the most dreaded part—the hat.

The Old Joohyun has a ridiculous collection of hats. Massive hats piled with flowers, feathers, lace, and so much more.

Joohyun picks out an ivory one with a medium-size brim and a small cluster of flowers. Even so, it seems gaudy to her.

After that, she can’t stall any longer. She thanks Nayeon as she leaves and Joohyun  takes her sweet time walking toward the stairs.

Is Joohyun being a little by purposely being late? Yes. But she justifues that she has no control here. In this time, she's vulnerable to everything around her, and Joohyun hates that feeling.

Being late and defying Seungwan is the only way for her to feel any control over her life.

Joohyun stops in front of the photos hanging on the hallway wall. They’re mostly old, stern-looking Son ancestors. All of them seem pissed off. But no one can blame them.

They lived in sweltering heat, wearing layers of clothes, and there was no air conditioning. No one would smile either.

Toward the stairs is a portrait of a little boy. Joohyun has passed the portrait a few times but never really stopped to look at it.

The boy has brown hair, neatly swept from his face. His eyes are the same color as Seungwan's. Unlike the solemn faces in the other portraits, this boy smirks.

It’s the same smirk Johnny gives when he’s about to say something inappropriate. He has to be their sibling.

“Can you tell me how to handle Seungwan?” Joohyun asks the boy. 

The little boy stares back. 

“Come on,” she coaxes. “Give me anything, because I am drowning here.”

“Are you talking to my brother?”

Joohyun jumps and looks over her shoulder. “God! Sooyoung! You scared me.” Sooyoung stands a few steps away, impeccably dressed for brunch.

When these people dress up, they don’t play. Sooyoung looks as though she’s dressed for her wedding instead of going to have lunch.

“You look wonderful,” Joohyun says.

“Thank you.” Sooyoung gives her a meaningful smirk. “I believe you’re evading my question. Were you talking to my brother?”

Joohyun wants to ask if this boy is her brother, but the Old Joohyunshould know that.

She nods sheepishly. “You caught me.” Joohyun glances back at the picture. “I don’t think anyone has ever told me how old he was here,” she says, carefully phrasing her words.

A far-away look clouds Sooyoung's eyes. “I believe Jaehyun was nine in that portrait.”

Jaehyun. 

Was.

Something obviously happened to him. Something that Joohyun needs to know, but won’t uncover right now.

Sooyoung looks away from the portrait. “Are you ready to go? Seungwan sent me to retrieve you. He’s furious now that we’re gonna be late.”

Joohyun lets Sooyoung link her arm with hers as they walk down the stairs.

Sooyoung is talking nonstop about people Joohyun doesn’t know and places she's never been. Joohyun feels like a bobblehead doll because all she does is nod every few seconds and paste on a smile.

Once they reach the foyer, Joohyun stiffens up; Seungwan and Johnny are quietly talking.

Seungwan glances at his sister for a second before he regards Joohyun. He holds her gaze then looks her up and down with nothing but contempt in his eyes.

What else did Joohyun expect though? Seungwan to stare at her with stars in his eyes, tell Joohyun she's the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, and profess his undying love for her?

This is Seungwan they’re talking about. Joohyun may have arrived here a short time ago, but even a blind kitten can see he hates her.

He brushes past her as though she’s invisible. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t sting. “You look beautiful,” Seungwan tells Sooyoung.

Sooyoung smiles and takes his offered arm. “What about Joohyun?”

Seungwan turns and gives Joohyun another once-over before he nods. “The dress is beautiful.”

That’s the most passive-aggressive dig Joohyun;s heard in a long time.

She opens , ready to tell him to go himself, when Johnny steps in between them. “We’re gonna to be late if we don’t leave.”

Joohyun lets her anger simmer in her eyes as she glares at Seungwan. He narrows his eyes.

If she were a weaker person, she’d be thrashing on the ground in pain from his gaze. She thinks the fact that she’s not backing down pisses him off.

Bring it on.

Seungwan's nostrils flare before he looks away. Joohyun feels as though she’s won a small battle.

“The driver is waiting,” he says curtly and walks past her toward the front door.

Johnny sighs at his brother’s retreating form, then glances at her. He holds out his arm for her, and she takes it.

“I see things are going great between you and my brother,” he says out of the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, it’s going swell,” Joohyun replies without missing a beat.

“Were you purposely late?”

They walk down the front steps. The sun slashes across her face. Joohyun puts on the dreaded hat and feigns indifference. “Huh? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Johnny chuckles. “I think you do.”

“He can’t tell me what to do.”

Johnny is quiet for a moment, then he shrugs a shoulder. “This is how you two are. You have your spats. Retaliate. He’ll get over it.”

Johnny's words make her freeze. That he views her actions as normal, that he puts her in the same box as the Old Joohyun should be a victory. She’s acting like her.

But that’s the problem—she’s acting like her. Joohyun doesn’t want to be her. Old Joohyun sounds like a .

“Have I always been awful to Seungwan?”

Johnny peers at her curiously. “Of course.”

“This is your brother you’re talking about.”

“I know that.”

“Shouldn’t you and Sooyoung hate me?”

“Why are you suddenly so concerned about our relationship with you? Would you rather have us despise you?”

“No, no,” Joohyun rushes out.

He gives her a devilish grin. “But to answer your question, no. I don’t hate you. You’re not my wife. I don’t have to live with you.”

“Fantastic,” she mutters.

“Why are you asking all of this?"

“Just curious.”

They’re steps away from the carriage. Johnny stops and stares at her curiously. “Have you been taking some laudanum? You’re skittish.”

Laudanum? Joohyun frowns, trying to figure out how and why that word is familiar. It finally dawns on her. She snaps her fingers and points at Johnny. “By laudanum, you mean drugs?”

He slowly nods.

“No. I haven’t been taking anything.” Although she wishes she were. Might make this all a bit bearable.

Johnny's brows form a tight V. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.” Joohyun smiles, hoping that will be enough to placate him.

Johnny continues to watch her, and she meets his gaze. Perhaps she could tell Johnny the truth. He seems understanding and caring. Besides, what does she have to lose?

“Can I tell you something?” Joohyun asks.

Johnny shrugs. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Is it about my brother?”

“Not really.”

“You’re being evasive,” he remarks.

“I’m in a difficult position.”

“Because?”

opens. “I—”

“Joohyun!”

She jumps away from Johnny.

Seungwan's standing next to the carriage's door, wearing a furious expression. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“About?” she challenges.

Seugwan's eyes cloud over with anger. “It is private.”

Being alone with the man is akin to being alone with a master manipulator.

Joohyun doesn’t know what Seungwan is going to do, how he’s going to react.

She walks on pins and needles around him, and it’s getting tiring. Fast. She stands up straight and tilts her chin up.

“Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Johnny.”

Johnny clears his throat. “I don’t know if I necessarily agree with that.” He inches toward the car. “I think I’ll keep Sooyoung company.”

He walks away without a backward glance, and Joohyun's left alone with the only person in this time who can help her but won’t.

She watches Seungwan cautiously. He strolls closer with that loose-hipped stride of his.

She doesn’t like his personality and he’s not that good-looking for her, but he executes powerful masculinity that makes her feel unbalanced.

Seungwan stops a few inches away, towering over her.  “You were gonna tell my brother that ridiculous story of yours,” he says.

“It’s not ridiculous.”

Seungwan arches a brow and leans in until their noses are inches apart. Joohyun in a sharp breath. “You think I don’t know you, but you’re forgettin’ I’ve had time to learn all the tricks up that sleeve of yours. Once you become bored, you create a scene, whether it be a man of your choosing or at one of your many parties.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Joohyun's hands curl into fists. “I can promise you that the last thing I want to do is create a scene. But if that’s what I have to do to get your damn attention, then so be it.”

Seungwan narrows his eyes. “Is that why you were late? I told you to be ready at twelve sharp.”

The damn hat is in her way. Joohyun takes it off and bat her eyelashes at him. “I was getting ready, wanted to look presentable.”

“Liar,” Seungwan growls.

“I would never lie to you, husband.” Bleh. That word tastes like bile for her.

Seungwan eyes flare. “Do not test me, Joohyun.”

Joohyun steps forward until her s brush against his chest. He tenses up. “Likewise, Seungwan.”

They stand there, both of them refusing to back down until Johnny tells them to hurry up.

Seungwan steps back. Another small victory for Joohyun.

"Let's go," Seungwan says. He has Joohyun walks in front of him.

Joohyun lifts the hem of her dress as Seungwan holds open the door to the private horse carriage.

As she lifts her leg to board, strong hands suddenly span her waist from behind, scaring the crap out of her. Even through the layers of fabric, she feels his touch like fire.

With apparent ease, Seungwan lifts her into the carriage as if she weighs nothing at all.

Because of the stupid corset, her breath becomes stuck in . Her hands are shaking as she scrambles to sit next to Sooyoung. 

“Are you all right?” Sooyoung asks.

She tries to laugh, although it comes out choked. “Never better.”

Seungwan takes the seat next opposite of her, and away they go.

Joohyun steps out, staring at the house in front of her, and takes a deep breath.

Johnny is quick to Sooyoung up to the front door, leaving Seungwan no choice but to walk with her.

Reluctantly, Seungwan holds his arm out.

Joohyun subtly brushes past him and says, “I’m perfectly capable of walking by myself.”

She makes it three steps before she’s grabbed from behind. Her entire body goes rigid.

“We will walk together,” Seungwan says against her ear. “All of Hanyang knows we’re not in love, but basic civility is nice.”

She turns toward him. “Is this what this is? Basic civility?”

Seungwan stares at her and doesn’t say a word.

“If you want basic civility, treat me with a bit of respect,” Joohyun says.

He snorts and tucks his hands into his pockets.

She advances on him. “What’s so funny?”

“You mentioning the word respect. I’m surprised you even know what it means, considering you haven’t respected our marriage since day one.”

Joohyun wants to scream at him that she has no idea what he’s talking about and what he’s accusing her of are things she’s never done.

But she doesn’t, because they’re already earning curious glances from fellow guests walking up the steps.

Seungwan notices too. He straightens his shoulders, holds his arm out, and waits for her to grab it.

A few seconds pass, but he stubbornly stays put. Joohyun gives in and hooks her arm around his.

Seungwan tucks it close to his side as though Joohyun is a toddler that keeps straying from its parent.

She grinds her teeth as they approach the front door.

A slight breeze lifts the hem of her dress, and it brushes against Seungwan's  black slacks.

Her heels echo on the brick pathway toward the back of the house.

The sound of voices mingling with laughter makes her heartbeat pick up. If Seungwan notices her apprehension, he doesn’t show it.

You can do this. All you have to do is pretend you belong and no one will look twice at you.

Brave words, almost encouraging, but there’s not a single thing Joohyun can tell herself that will prepare her for this brunch.

What is she about to walk into? This is supposedly at Old Joohyun's parents’ home, and since she’s her, will her entire family be here too?

God, she hopes so.

They round the corner, and she almost stops short; there’s a massive white-tablecloth-covered table that looks as if it can fit up to fifty people.

From where she’s standing, it appears that’s how many people are here, and it’s clear they’re the elite—part of a social circle that most never have the chance of entering.

As Seungwan directs them around the guests, they pass the table, and she admires the white wicker chairs around it.

The colorful flowers in vases decorate the middle of the table. Fine china is placed in front of each chair. The silver is wrapped in ivory cloth napkins and put sideways on each plate.

They move away from the table and merge into the sea of people.

“Where is your damn mother?” Seungwan grumbles.

Joohyun swallows. “I don’t know.”

She’ll know her mom when she sees her, and so far, she’s nowhere in sight. Neither is her dad or brothers.

“There she is.”

Panic sets in because she has no idea who he’s referring to. Oh, . Oh, . Oh, . What does she do?

They stop beside a woman with a crowd surrounding her. She’s beautiful—slim, dark hair, and pale skin. She laughs softly at something someone said.

A sharp pain lances her heart because she’s not her mom and Joohyun wants her to be; she wants to see a familiar face.

The woman glances her way and smiles broadly. “Darling! You look...” This fake mom looks at Joohyun up and down, making her feel as though she’s a breakable trinket that could be damaged. “You look lovely.”

The mom kisses her cheeks. Stiffly, Joohyun mimics her actions. Fake mom is oblivious to her discomfort because she’s too busy trying to flag down a waiter.

One is by her side within seconds.

“Would you like a glass, dear?”

Joohyun's not a big drinker, but she finds herself nodding and accepting a glass.

She downs the champagne so fast that she places the empty glass back on the silver tray.

Fake Mom’s eyes widen slightly. Seungwan frowns. If they were in her shoes, surrounded by complete strangers, she bets they’d be doing the same thing.

Liquid courage is precisely what she needs.

Joohyun smiles apologetically. “Sorry. I’m thirsty.”

“That’s fine. Please try to pace yourself though.” She turns away from her and directs her charming smile Seungwan's way. “It’s wonderful to see you, Seungwan.”

“The pleasure is mine, Junghwa.”

Her name is Junghwa. It fits her well, but to Joohyun, she’s merely Fake Mom.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Seungwan and Fake Mom have a polite conversation. As Joohyun listens to them, she quickly learns that the stocky man next to Fake Mom is Fake Dad.

His name is Byungchul. From his thinning hair to his permanent scowl, this man is nothing like her real father.

These two people are frauds. Fill-ins. Actors playing a role. Just like her.

A stranger comes up and speaks to Fake Mom. The stranger calls the fake mom Mrs. Kim.

Junghwa and Byungchul Kim. She adds the names to the ever-growing list of things that don’t make sense.

Joohyun has never heard those names before. Her parents are Bae Doona and Choi Siwon.

And her last name is Bae. Joohyun follows her mother's surname. 

Before her birth, her parents had visited a monk. Curious about their unborn child, Doona requested a fortune.

The monk  said the baby's path contained both honor and strife. To ensure the former, she must not carry the Choi name, which carried a dark omen.

Instead, the name Bae held great respect and integrity passed through the generations. Under this surname, the child would find esteem.

Though puzzled, Siwon and Doona's family both deeply respected the monk. When Joohyun was born, they named her Bae Joohyun to align with the auspicious name and avoid potential ruin, as the monk foretold.

The stranger and Fake Mom chat for a few seconds before Fake Mom glances her way. “Where are my manners? Joohyun, this is a new acquaintance of mine I’ve been telling you about. Boa, this is my daughter.”

Boa smiles, so Joohyun smiles back. It’s instinctive.

“Lovely to meet you,” Boa says.

“Likewise,” Joohyun says. Although it comes out more like a question.

“Joohyun is a beautiful name.” Boa turns to Fake Mom. “Is it a family name?”

Joohyun opens , ready to tell the story she's heard her whole life, but Fake Mom beats her to the punch.

"It's an interesting story. Originally, Byungchul and I said that if we had a girl her name would be Soohyun. If we had a boy, he would be named Ha Joon."

Fake Mom smiles at her husband affectionately. "But our baby arrived and here she was. Our little girl. I told the doctor what her name was. She didn’t hear me clearly though and wrote down Joohyun. Once I saw it, I knew it wasn’t a mistake. That was her name."

Everyone "oh" and "ahhs" and smiles at Fake Mom and her.

But Joohyun is frozen. She thinks her heart stopped beating for a second.

Every single word that the Fake Mom said has come out of her own mom’s mouth... a century later.

Nothing that’s occurred since Joohyun has arrived here has made much sense, but this takes the cake.

These parents are not hers, but it’s almost as though time has plucked specific memories and moments from her real life and shot them back through time with her.

Her hands are shaking so much she has to cross her arms to conceal them.

It takes someone coughing for her to realize she is still staring at Fake Mom.

Junghwa smiles, and for the hundredth time, Joohyun is asked the question that she has started to hate. “Joohyun, are you all right?”

No, I'm not all right. I am shaken to her core. Joohyun doesn’t say that. Instead, she smiles like a good little actress and says, “I’m fine.”

Her performance is convincing enough because she nods and smiles at the people surrounding her. “Brunch is almost ready. Shall we head to the table?”

Seungwan surprisingly escorts her. He shoots speculative glances her way. Doubt lingers in his eyes.

This isn't a brunch where people sit down, eat their food, talk a bit, then get up. No, these people do not play around when it comes to brunch. There are so many courses, Joohyun lost count around the sixth plate of food placed before her.

There are oysters, roasted pigeon, filet mignon, and other dishes she’d never seen before. Everyone seems content to have so many courses. Probably because their food is only in front of them for a good five minutes before it’s whisked away.

Servants move back and forth between the house and the table. Joohyun is tempted to beg one of them to let her join them; she doesn’t belong at this table.

From Sooyoung, Joohyunlearns that these social gatherings—or soirées, as she calls them—have many activities: croquet, polo matches, archery, and the most popular activity of them all, drinking.

Lots and lots of drinking. If Joohyun wasn’t bound and determined to snoop through Fake Mom and Dad’s home, she could’ve finished off an entire bottle of wine herself.

Instead, she listens to the insipid conversations that make her want to nod off right there at the table. How can they tolerate this farce? It’s almost as though everyone here shares an inside joke she doesn’t understand.

But Joohyun has discovered one important thing. Hanyang people seems to have a way of pronouncing certain words and sayings. It takes her a few seconds to realize that the woman on the opposite side of the table is calling the man next to her Jagi (dear). It sounds like Jagghi.

They join words together and stretch out the vowels, and they do it all with a smile, making you unsure if they love you or secretly want to kill you.

Across from her is Seungwan. He gives noncommittal smiles and politely speaks to the men and women around him.

He nods as if what they’re saying matters to him. As Seungwan talks to everyone, his gaze always finds its way back to her.

A few chairs down, two men are talking about how after lunch, they’ll participate in a game of archery.

What about the women? Joohyun wants to ask, but she doesn’t feel like having everyone stare at her as though she’s grown three heads.

Besides, she already knows the answer—the women will probably sit and watch and quietly talk to each other.

At this point, she doesn’t care. Joohyun just wants to get away from this table because DOnghae keeps leering at her.

She shifts in her seat, subtly turning away from Donghae, but she can still feel his gaze on her.

Joohyun can’t take another second of this. She's frustrated, and her is numb from sitting on this uncomfortable chair.

She needs to get inside the house directly in front of her to see if she can find anything that might lead her back to her time.

Abruptly Joohyun stands, making heads lift. Including Seungwan's. He barely raises his head her way, but she feels those sharp eyes follow her as she walks toward Fake Mom.

She bends down until their faces are level and tells yet another lie. “I need to use the restroom.”

Conversations come to a grinding halt as everyone glances at her. Sooyoung coughs into her hand, and Seungwan takes a long swallow of his drink.

Fake Mom’s cheeks turn pink, but she smiles and pats her hand. “Of course, dear.”

Another faux pas on her part? More than likely. But Joohyun doesn’t know what they call the bathroom in this time or how they announce they gotta go.

It was either that or just get up from the table and walk away. That seems far ruder.

With her head held high, Joohyun walks toward the back staircase, feeling a pair of eyes burning holes into her back.

She fights the urge to quicken her pace; she has to look as though she knows where she’s going.

In reality, she has no idea which doors to enter.

First, she’ll try the French doors directly in front of her, and if those are locked, she’ll search for a second way in.

The smallest part of her wishes to be back at Hyemulgat.

Ridiculous. In the short time she’s been here, Joohyun has come to think of that home as a safe zone.

The doorknob easily turns, and she slips inside. From the chintz-covered wicker furniture and potted ferns, she realizes this is the sunroom. Another set of doors in front of her leads to the rest of the house. Her footsteps reverberate through the narrow hallway.

This home is beautiful and tastefully decorated, but it doesn’t have the grandeur of Hyemulgat and far fewer rooms to navigate.

If her father were here, he would say Joohyun is in the tail end at the age of opulence.

If he were here, he would examine everything in amazement, furiously scribbling notes and trying his hardest to take everything in.

Joohyun finds the library instantly. It resembles the Son's library in one way—both spaces are well used.

The shelves aren’t perfectly stacked with books. Rolled scrolls of calligraphy and paintings decorate alcoves. 

Joohyun walks past the shelves. Some books are hidden by picture frames of Fake Mom and Dad and an assortment of people she’s never seen before.

Even so, she peers carefully at each one; she might see a close relative or someone she recognizes. Anything.

One photo makes her stop and stare. It’s Seungwan and her on their wedding day.

They’re standing in front of a building. Seungwan is dressed in a tux. Even though he’s cradling her hand between his, there’s still a reasonable distance between them.

Seungwan looks miserable. Joohyun is wearing a white lace gown and a scalloped-edge cathedral veil. She looks miserable.

This doesn’t make sense. Even if Joohyun attempted to make sense of this entire situation, she’d become so overwhelmed and frustrated that she’d give up.

At this point, it’s better for her to push aside everything that’s unsettling and focus on one thing—getting the hell back home.

On the other side of the room is a drop-front desk flanked by two bookcases. She gently lowers the hinged panel, only to reveal a network of shelves and small drawers.

Joohyun goes through the compartments and finds an assortment of items: receipts, blank papers, writing utensils. There are a few letters written to Junghwa by someone named Alma. That name doesn’t ring a bell, so she continues searching. There’s nothing here. Nothing of use to her at least.

“Why is it so hard to get you alone?” a voice says behind her.

Joohyun turns around, and her stomach sinks.

Donghae is standing in the doorway. She suppresses a groan and stares at the desk with longing.

She can’t search with him here, and judging from the gleam in his eyes, he won’t be leaving soon. “Why do I feel like I’m in a really bad Netflix movie?” she mutters.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Joohyun faces him. “What do you want?”

The first time she met Donghae, he was barely tolerable. Now he’s annoying. He’s like a fly that you keep swatting away but continues to come back.

“We haven’t seen much of each other,” he says.

Everything about her body language screams “back off.” Donghae must know it, yet he moves deeper into the room, directly toward her.

“Believe me, there’s a reason we do not see each other,” Joohyun comments.

His arrogant smile never wavers. “Did I do something to offend you?”

Joohyun gives him a sickly sweet smile. "No. I just don't like you. Now if you'll excuse me, I should probably get back outside."

She steps to the left, trying to get as far away as possible from him, but this isn't a big room.

Joohyun still has to brush past him to get toward the door. She's mere steps away from freedom when Donghae grabs her arm, spins her back into the room, and slams her against the wall.

Pain reverberates through her skull.

A red veil of rage covers her eyes. Her heart pounds in tandem with the one thought echoing in her mind—beat the out of him. Once Joohyun can get his hands off of her, of course.

Until then she stays perfectly still. Joohyun doesn’t want to look him in the eye. She doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction. Defiantly, she stares at the opposite side of the room.

Donghae stands so close she can smell alcohol on his breath. “Joohyun, you’re not going anywhere.”

If she is being honest, she’s a little scared. But the adrenaline rushing through her is all-powerful and refuses to let fear take over.

“What has become of you lately?” he asks gruffly. “I haven’t heard a word from you in days.”

“Take the hint.”

“No.”

Joohyun takes a deep breath. “Look, I changed my mind. I have a lot of things going on. Probably best if we don’t see each other. Ever again.”

Donghae stands frozen in place. He doesn’t let go. His brows become furrowed as he absorbs her words. He’s not used to being rejected.

When he presses closer, her panic grows. “You need to let go.”

“No.” He tightens his grip until his fingers are digging into her skin, and it takes everything in her not to wince.

That’s what he wants—for her to react. He wants to see her in pain.

“Let. Go.”

DOnghae leans in closer. “Or you’ll do what?” His lips tilt into a cocky smile.

They’re alone, and he’s banking on her putting up a struggle, with him ultimately getting his way.

He’s the kind of man she hates.

The kind that makes her flesh crawl. Donhae is arrogant, but also very, very stupid; he’s underestimated her.

He has no idea Joohyun has two brothers who taught her how to fight back.

He paws at her body, and her nails claw at his face and any available piece of skin.

Joohyun draws blood on his neck, but she keeps him back with strength she didn’t know she had.

She forcefully hits her palm against the top of his nose. He rears back and clutches his nose with both hands.

Blood trickles between his fingers, but there’s no time to savor the moment.

She remembers her brother Inhyuk's advice, from all those years ago, that if she’s ever in a dangerous situation with a guy, she should knee him in the groin as best as possible.

Donghae's guard is down, and Joohyun uses that to her advantage by wedging her knee between his legs and shoving it upward as hard as she can.

Seconds later, he collapses. Panting, Joohyun stares at his limp body in shock.

His hands abandoned his nose and are now in between his legs.

Donghae is making noises that would usually make her feel sympathy. Instead, a shocking burst of laughter escapes her lips because she can’t believe she did it.

Her muscles are coiled tight, waiting for him to stand back up and try something else, but he remains on the floor, eyes shut and an expression of agony on his face.

He mutters curse words and groans that he’s never going to be able to walk again. That’s a stretch; he may be down for the count, but he’ll be okay.

“I was gonna see if you needed help, but it’s clear you don’t.”

Her head snaps up, and she sees Seungwan leaning against the open doorway.

His hands are tucked into his pockets. He looks like a man of leisure, but his eyes are narrowed on Donghae and his body is rigid.

Seungwan seems seconds away from pouncing on Donghae and beating the out of him.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to watch you deliver a blow that, as a man, made me cringe.”

“He was—”

Seungwan's eyes darken. “I saw everything.”

Pushing away from the doorway, Seungwan saunters closer. Once he reaches Donghae, he stares at him as though he’s an insect underneath a microscope.

Seungwan uses the toe of his boot to nudge him. Donghae groans and attempts to bury his head into the carpet.

There’s not an ounce of sympathy on Seungwan'sface. He’s not furious though. Instead, he’s incredibly calm.

Which is almost more terrifying than seeing him angry.

His eyes meet hers. “Sure you’re okay?”

Joohyun nods.

Seungwan stares at her for a second longer before he looks away.

The last thing Joohyun wants to do is spend another second in this room. “ me back. Husbands still do that, right?”

Wordlessly, Seungwan holds out his arm.

Before Joohyun accepts, she kneels next to Donghae.

“I’m not going to pretend I understand, but I hear it’s incredibly painful to be hit in the family jewels, so nod your head once if you can hear me.” Joohyun keeps her voice calm, as if she’s talking about the weather.

Donghae nods once.

“Good. If you ever touch me again, speak to me again, or even glance my way, I will gut you like a deer. Are we clear?”

Donghae, who’s still clutching his crotch, moans something unintelligible. Joohyun is going to assume it's an agreement.

She smiles and stands. “Excellent. We have an understanding.” Seungwan continues to stare between Donghae and her in complete disbelief.

It’s the first time Joohyun has seen Seungwan appears dumbfounded.

“He’s a creep,” she says as she loops her hand into the crook of his arm. “I don’t want to see him again.”

“I do business with him,” Seungwan remarks as they walk out of the room.

“After what you just saw, will you still be doing business with him?”

Seungwan pauses and glances at her. “I don’t believe so.”

“Good.”

Something passes between them. It certainly isn’t understanding or respect, but it’s pretty damn close.

And Joohyun will take it, because hating Seungwan is far more exhausting than she anticipated.

They walk down the hall, toward the patio. The two of them are quiet. “I have to know one thing,” Seungwan says.

“What?”

Seungwan lowers his voice. “Do you honestly know how to gut a deer?”

“No, but if I’m truly your wife, you should know that... right?”

Seungwan never answers her.

That teacher was right—Joohyun wasn’t believable as an actress. But right now, that might be the very thing to work in Joohyun's favor.