The hallway felt strangely quiet. Yoon Ha-rin realized she had been staring at Kang Jae-min for several seconds, which was too long to say. Her face immediately warmed.
"Oh…I'm sorry," she quickly said, lowering her gaze in the process. "I didn't mean to stand here. I was just leaving." She tried to explain, but her voice sounded awkward even to her own ears.
Why did she suddenly feel like a student caught doing something wrong? Her thought echoed but Jae-min didn't say a word.
In an instant, he had his tears dried out without her notice. Showing out his weakness wasn't something to behold. His dark eyes spontaneously studied her calmly, though his expression remained unreadable.
Up close, his presence felt even more intimidating than before. Ha-rin had read several articles about him the night before, but none of them mentioned how intense his gaze could be. For a moment, the air between them felt oddly tense.
The finally, he spoke. "You were looking at the painting." It wasn't a question, just an observation. Ha-rin glanced back at the glass display room and swallowed hard.
"Yes… it caught my attention. She replied. Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the strap of her bag. "I'm sorry if visitors aren't supposed to stop here."
His gaze followed hers toward the painting as she tried to explain.
The young woman beneath the moonlight stared silently from the canvas, her expression forever frozen in time.
The same painting had been part of the foundation's collection for years and had seen it countless times. Yet, something about it today felt different
"Why?" he quietly asked and she blinked, confused at his sudden outburst.
"Why… what?"
"Why did it catch your attention?"
His tone was calm, but something about the question felt strangely serious. Ha-rin hesitated for a second. She couldn't exactly say the painting made her head hurt and felt strangely familiar. That would sound ridiculous. Still, the answer slipped out honestly.
"She looks lonely."
Jae-min's eyes shifted back to the painting. Lonely? That wasn't a word most people used when describing historical portraits. He contemplated.
Most visitors simply admired the clothing or the brushwork. But Ha-rin looked beyond that. Straight to the emotion. In an impulse, something flickered across his expression and then disappeared.
The sound of the hallway door opening, soon jolted their attention. One of the foundation's senior researchers approached them with a folder in his hands.
"Ah, Director Kang," the man said respectfully, bowing slightly. "I was just looking for you."
His gaze then shifted toward Ha-rin. "Oh. Are you one of the interview candidates?"
She politely bowed. "Yes, sir. My name is Yoon Ha-rin."
The researcher smiled kindly. "Well, Miss Yoon seems to have found one of our more interesting artifacts." He gestured toward the painting. "It's quite famous among historians."
She looked back at it, marveled, "Really?"
He nodded. "Yes. Though not for the reason you might expect."
On the other hand, Jae-min just remained silent, listening.
"The portrait dates back to the late Joseon Dynasty, over three hundred years ago," the researcher explained. "It was discovered in a private estate along with several damaged historical records."
Ha-rin leaned slightly closer to the glass again. "So… who is she?"
He gave a small thoughtful hum. "That's the interesting part." He answered, lightly tapping the folder against his palm. "No one knows."
She gasped. "No one?" It spiked her interest even further.
"Her name was never recorded in official palace documents. Historians only refer to her as the Guard's Daughter."
Something about that title sent a chill down her spine. "The guard's daughter?" She asked and the researcher nodded again.
"Yes. According to the fragments we recovered, her father served as a royal guard inside the palace." He briefly paused. "And during a violent coup that nearly overthrew the crown…"
The hallway grew even quieter at his words. "…this young woman died."
Her chest tightened. "Died, how?"
He looked at the painting thoughtfully. "She took a sword meant for the Crown Prince."
The words hit her like a sudden gust of cold wind. And that moment, strange images flashed through her mind. Moonlight, a palace courtyard, followed by the sound of steel clashing and someone shouting. But the image vanished before she could grasp it.
Her fingers instinctively pressed lightly against her temple.
"What's wrong?" the researcher asked gently.
"Oh—nothing," she said quickly. "Just a small headache."
Jae-min had been watching her quietly the entire time. His gaze slightly sharpened. "Continue," he said to the researcher. The man nodded.
"According to the surviving records, the attack happened at night during a rebellion inside the palace walls. Several conspirators attempted to assassinate the Crown Prince."
He gestured toward the painting again. "This young woman apparently ran into the courtyard during the chaos and intercepted the attack."
Her heartbeat quickened with each event and she didn't know why. But the story felt quite heavy as it went deeper. As if it carried an emotion she couldn't explain.
"Did the Crown Prince survive?" she softly asked.
"Yes."
"But she didn't," the researcher replied. Silence filled the hallway for several seconds and the cherry blossom petals from the painting seemed almost alive under the soft display lights.
Ha-rin stared at the portrait, over and over. And deep down inside her chest, it unexpectedly ached. "That's… really sad," she murmured and the researcher nodded slowly.
"Yes. Historians often consider it one of the most tragic untold stories of the Joseon court." He further explained, adjusting the folder in his hands. "The strange part is that the Crown Prince ordered this portrait painted shortly after the incident."
Her eyes widened at his last statement. "So, he cared about her?"
The researcher gave a small smile. "Very much, it seems."
Jae-min's expression remained calm, but his fingers slowly curled at his side.
"The painting was discovered centuries later," the researcher continued. "Hidden among other royal belongings that had been secretly preserved."
He studied the portrait again. "Unfortunately, history never recorded what happened afterward. The Crown Prince eventually disappeared from official records a few years later."
"Disappeared?" Ha-rin repeated.
"Yes. No one knows the exact circumstances." The researcher shrugged lightly. "It sometimes happens; leaving us with more questions than answers."
She slowly nodded in agreement, finding it almost impossible to speak. But the uneasy feeling in her chest remained. The past, with the present, and the inexplicable pull of something beyond her understanding—everything collided in that moment.
The guard's daughter, a sword, and the Moonlight, all awakened something within her. And for some reason, those words refused to leave her mind.
She bowed politely with a thanks and headed toward the elevator. Her mind clouded.
As she walked away, the hallway lights remained perfectly still. But the strange heaviness in the air lingered. Jae-min remained standing in front of the glass display. His gaze slowly returned to the painting.
For years, the portrait had been nothing more than another historical artifact. But now, he found himself looking at it differently. His eyes drifted briefly toward the elevator where she had disappeared, then back to the painting.
They didn't speak again, yet the moment lingered, heavier than any conversation could have made it. Something about the girl in the portrait and the girl who had just left, felt strangely connected. But that was impossible. For the very first time since acquiring the painting, he felt something disturb his usual indifference.
A faint, unsettling thought crossed his mind. Why did she react like that?