Yoon Ji sat before the ornate bronze mirror, its edges delicately carved with phoenixes and peonies, a symbol of noble grace. Her reflection stared back at her, haunted, furious, and defeated. She had been in that same spot for hours, unmoving, her hands clenched into the silk of her crimson hanbok, embroidered with golden chrysanthemums that shimmered under the natural light coming in from the window. The thick jeogori jacket she wore clung tightly across her chest, her breath shallow and irregular. Her hair, though elegantly styled in a noblewoman's daenggi-meori braid, had strands falling out wildly, betraying her inner storm.
In the last two days, she had shattered five mirrors. And now, the sixth stood before her, pristine, mocking her with its unyielding reflection.
She gripped the iron comb in her hand, fingers trembling. Her vision blurred with frustration, tears threatening but held at bay by pride.
"Why… why can't I look the most beautiful?" she whispered to herself.
Her foul mood had not lifted since the picnic by the stream, an event she had so painstakingly organized to dazzle and dominate, only to leave feeling utterly invisible. What was supposed to be her grand moment became a slow, exquisite torture. Even now, the memory clung to her like a stain.
She could still hear the honeyed voices of the ministers' daughters as they clustered around Song Yeon like moths to an irritating flame. "Your skin is like fresh snow," one had said. "Did you notice how white her fingernails are?" whispered another, fawning as if they had never seen delicate fingers before. The praises flew freely, her pale complexion, her graceful posture, the supposedly natural glow of her cheeks and Yoon Ji had sat there, beautifully dressed, exquisitely adorned, and utterly ignored.
She had spent hours preparing that day but none of it mattered once Song Yeon arrived.
She could recall every detail with a bitterness that festered deeper each time it surfaced. Song Yeon even had the audacity to loosen her hair, letting it fall freely down her back like an uncaged river. It was a scandalous thing to do, a girl of her standing, behaving so informally before other noblewomen. A mannerless fox, Yoon Ji had thought. But even then, the others cooed and laughed, enchanted by her display of carefree grace.
Yoon Ji had caught it, the slight tilt of Song Yeon's lips, the gleam in her eyes. A silent mockery. That girl knew. She knew that Yoon Ji had added weighty gache to enhance her volume. She knew Yoon Ji couldn't afford to undo her hair lest she reveal how artificial her fullness was. And she enjoyed it, every flick of her hair screamed triumph. She basked in the attention, reveled in Yoon Ji's growing discomfort.
And the final blow? Song Yeon's false modesty. With a smile that made Yoon Ji's skin crawl, she had said, "Oh, I didn't wear makeup today. It's only us girls, and the guards are too far to see our faces." She said it so casually, yet everyone heard the message behind the words: I am beautiful without even trying.
Yoon Ji had nearly gagged when she saw Kang Mu, the most proper of the young guards that earned him the right to be her personal guard blush like a schoolboy when Song Yeon merely thanked him for offering her a cup. A cup! As if he had handed her the moon.
It was all too much.
From that moment on, Yoon Ji couldn't bring herself to smile. Every time someone tried to speak to her, the corners of her lips twitched unnaturally, her voice trembled with barely veiled irritation. She sat stiffly through the picnic, sipping sweet plum tea that tasted bitter on her tongue, her laughter hollow and forced while her neck was killing her.
And when it was finally over, when the sun had begun to set and the guests began to leave, she climbed into her carriage like a ghost. Bu-ran had followed her, unaware that she was about to be the target of a storm.
"Leave," Yoon Ji had snapped. Her voice was too calm to argue with, at that moment she doesn't care how Bu-ran would get home and she would have told her to walk back home but Bu-ran bowed and exited, confused but obedient so Yoon Ji never added her other order and the moment she was gone, she let loose.
She thrashed inside the small carriage like a beast cornered, kicking the seat opposite hers, tearing at the hem of her robe, ripping free the heavy pins from her hair as if they had betrayed her. Her long sleeves fluttered like wings as she flailed, the hair ornaments clinking to the floor with loud, angry thuds.
She wailed, not out of sadness, but frustration, humiliation, rage. But even in her private tantrum, even in her clawing and growling and sobbing… the pain didn't ease. Her neck throbbed from carrying the gache, her pride ached deeper than any muscle, and her soul felt scraped raw.
That was the beginning of her descent into bitter silence, where every glance in the mirror became a punishment, a reminder that no matter what she wore or how she adorned herself, it hadn't been enough.
Not enough to outshine Song Yeon.
With a sudden scream "Ahhhhhhh!" she raised the iron comb high, ready to bring it crashing down onto the mirror.
"Young Mistress!" Bu-ran, her handmaiden, cried from the doorway, her voice laced with fear.
"Tae Yoon Ji!"
The voice was firm, noble, commanding. Lady So Ah swept into the room in a swirl of silk and grace. Her outer robe, a deep shade of jade, flowed behind her like a wave. The sleeves of her cream jeogori, stitched with silver cranes, brushed against the furniture as she moved swiftly toward her daughter. Her hair was styled in a high, elegant chignon, held together by a golden binyeo pin encrusted with sapphires.
She snatched the comb from Yoon Ji's hand just before it could strike the mirror. The younger lady blinked, startled by the sudden presence of her mother.
"Mother?" she said, voice trembling.
"You. Out," So Ah said without looking back.
Bu-ran knew at once the order was for her so she bowed low and disappeared, her feet light and terrified.
Once alone, Lady So Ah turned fully to face her daughter, her expression unreadable, her gaze sharp as a blade.
"What is the meaning of this tantrum? Is this how I raised you? Like a spoiled child with no restraint?" Her voice cut through the silence like a whip. "I heard you've turned this room into ruins, breaking everything in sight. You even shattered the jade vase I had imported from beyond the southern seas! Do you know how rare that vase was? It cannot be repaired or replaced!"
She stepped closer, gently but firmly turning Yoon Ji to face her.
"Talk to me," she continued, her tone softening only slightly. "Why have you missed your tea ceremony lessons, your music sessions, your dance practices? How do you intend to charm the king if you refuse to polish your skills? Speak, Yoon Ji. What madness has taken hold of you?"
"It is useless, Mother!" Yoon Ji suddenly shouted, the words raw with pain.
"What did you just say?" So Ah raised her brows.
"I said it's all useless!" Her voice cracked. "Why must I learn all these things...for what? To entertain ministers? To perform like a puppet for the Queen Dowager? What's the use of all these skills if I can't even captivate the king's gaze? What's the point of all this if my face isn't enough to take me to the palace?"
With a scream of frustration, she snatched a jade cup from the table and hurled it at the mirror. The mirror shattered in a burst of glittering shards, the sound echoing like a thunderclap. The cup itself broke into jagged pieces, scattered across the wooden floor.
"Y-Young Mistress!" Bu-ran reappeared at the door, her voice desperate.
"Get out!" So Ah barked without even turning. The servant fled again, more frightened than before.
Lady So Ah stared at her daughter, the fury in her eyes slowly melting into concern.
"What has gotten into you?" she asked more gently now, almost in disbelief. "Why did you destroy the mirror? Speak to me."
Yoon Ji's voice trembled as she said, "Because… because the mirror lies. No matter how long I look, I don't see beauty. I don't see someone who could be Queen. I only see… someone less than..."
"Less than who?" So Ah asked, stepping closer, her tone now quiet but piercing.
"Than…" Yoon Ji hesitated, ashamed.
"Than?" So Ah pressed.
"Song Yeon." Yoon Ji's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Who is Song Yeon?" So Ah asked as she wore a confused expression.
"The Prime Minister's daughter." Yoon Ji replied in one breath.
"What?" So Ah blinked, stunned.
"Song Yeon," Yoon Ji repeated, louder now. "I saw her… and I knew. She was flawless."
Lady So Ah's face tightened. "Where would you even see her? You haven't left the manor in weeks."
"At the picnic," Yoon Ji replied, her voice bitter. "The one you helped me plan. You praised my attire that day. But all I remember… is seeing her. Standing there, in that pale jade looking hanbok with silver lotus embroidery, her hair glinting in the sunlight, her skin like porcelain… and the way everyone looked at her, as if she were the moon reincarnated."
"Oh… that picnic," So Ah said, recalling. "Yes. I remember."
"She outshone me, Mother," Yoon Ji said with a strained smile. "And I realized… no matter how much I try, I will never be enough."
Drawing a low stool next to the mirror's remains. Lady So Ah sat down beside her daughter, She took Yoon Ji's trembling hand in hers and looked her square in the eyes.
"You foolish child," she said, voice filled with both tenderness and steel. "You think beauty lies in what others see? Do you know how many women in this city wear silks worth a kingdom and still walk in shadows?"
"People always said I look like Father," Yoon Ji murmured, eyes brimming with tears. "That I didn't inherit even a drop of your beauty. I tried so hard, Mother. And still, I was humiliated."
"Your father," So Ah began, a faint smile tugging at her lips, "was once the most handsome man in three provinces. Women wept when he passed them on the street. I was the envy of my hometown and this capital the day I was betrothed to him."
"You don't act like you love him," Yoon Ji whispered.
"We grew older," So Ah said softly. "Things change. But it doesn't make the past less true. You are his daughter. You have his strength and you have my eyes. You just haven't learned to see yourself clearly yet."
"Then why… why does Song Yeon still shine brighter than me?" Yoon Ji asked.
"She doesn't," So Ah replied, gently brushing Yoon Ji's loose strands behind her ear. "You shine with a fire she could never match. But while she trained endlessly in decorum, in elegance, in poise… you ran from those lessons. You avoided the tutors I paid fortunes for. It's not your beauty that lacks, my child, it's your readiness."
Yoon Ji lowered her gaze, ashamed.
So Ah lifted her chin with a finger. "There is no one more beautiful than you. But beauty is not enough to be Queen. You must have presence. Discipline. Grace. Skill. Win the Queen Dowager's favor, dazzle the ministers. That is how you take the throne not just with a lovely face, but with a presence that demands a crown."
She stood and walked toward the window, gazing out into the cherry blossom trees beginning to bloom in the courtyard.
"I will prepare the perfect gifts," she continued. "You will visit the Queen Dowager within the week. We will arrange the finest silks from Goryeo, delicacies from the coastal regions. You will bow with poise, speak with elegance, and when you rise… they will see the future Queen."
Yoon Ji stood as well, walking slowly to her mother and wrapping her arms around her tightly.
"I love you, Mother," she whispered into her shoulder.
"I love you too, my child," So Ah replied, her voice soft, proud, and warm.
Outside, the wind stirred the blossoms, and within the shattered mirror, a single fragment caught Yoon Ji's reflection, this time, shining with something new.
Resolve.