In the dim glow of flickering lanterns, the stillness of the study room was shattered by the presence of a strikingly handsome figure: the unexpected, tardy guest from Lord Hwang's party. The latecomer lay across his desk, brush poised in his elegant fingers, surrounded by an array of scattered papers and an inkstone. He had succumbed to a deep slumber, clearly overtaken by exhaustion during his studies. His chiseled features, even in sleep, reflected a turmoil as if he were engaged in a relentless struggle within his dreams.
In the realm of his nightmares, a vivid scene unfolded. A young boy, filled with innocent energy, playfully strolled by a serene lakeside bordered by an enchanting forest. Suddenly, he tripped over a small rock and crashed to the ground, scraping his knee. Pain registered in his small body, but he battled tears, pride refusing to let them fall. Then, like a guardian angel, the young Hae Mi Hyang appeared at his side. Her presence was a beacon of comfort.
"You're okay," she said softly, kneeling beside him. "Let me take care of that."
With a gentle smile capable of melting the hardest of hearts, she retrieved a delicately embroidered handkerchief from her pouch and tenderly wiped away the blood from his wound, her touch as soothing as a lullaby. After bandaging his knee with the handkerchief, she helped him rise. Their hands intertwined, they continued on their journey, laughter bubbling in the air.
"Did you come to see her?" Hae Mi Hyang asked, eyes twinkling with curiosity.
"Yes," the boy replied with his heart swelling with an emotion he couldn't name. As sunlight spilled over the lake, turning the water into a bed of diamonds, the world around them faded into a blissful haze.
But just as suddenly, the dream shifted. The serene lake and playful laughter faded away, replaced by a sense of impending dread. Seo Jin awoke with a jolt, as if yanked from a nightmare by an unseen force. His breath quickened, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He fumbled for a handkerchief, wiping away the remnants of his troubled slumber.
Trembling, he splashed water onto his face, jolting himself fully awake. Then he reached for a small, wooden box on the shelf beside him. Opening it with reverence, he retrieved an old handkerchief resembling the one from his dream—worn but still faintly fragrant with memories. Wrapped within it was a white lotus hairpin, identical to the one Hae Mi Hyang had worn in his dream. Clutching it tightly, he grasped that it was an anchor to his past.
His eyes, once sparkling with the light of dreams, burned with a fierce mix of rage, sorrow, and an unquenchable thirst for vengeance. The past surged back, inundating him with painful memories. He saw himself as a child, kneeling beside his father's lifeless body, the scene blurred by shadows of grief and blood surrounding him. The hairpin lay beside his father, soaked in blood—a silent witness to the tragedy that had scarred his soul.
The dream had cruelly reminded him of all he had lost, contrasting sharply with fleeting moments of happiness. The boy at the lake and the girl who comforted him became ghosts, taunting him with a future that would never be. The weight of grief threatened to crush him, but the hairpin became a symbol of resolve—a reminder of his vow to seek justice for his father's untimely death.
As he sat in the dim study, surrounded by the remains of his interrupted studies, he swore to himself that he would not rest until he avenged his father. "I'll find the truth," he murmured, determination flickering within him. "Nothing will stop me."
Outside, the night deepened, and the world turned, ignorant of the silent vow made within those walls. The handsome latecomer from Lord Hwang's party was no longer just a guest; he was a man on a mission, driven by the ghosts of his past. The future lay before him, a canvas awaiting the strokes of his resolve, and he was determined to wield the brush with unyielding ambition.
Thus, the story of the handsome latecomer unfolds—a tale woven with dreams and nightmares, love and loss, and a thirst for revenge. The shadows of the past loomed large, but the light of hope burned brighter, guiding him on his quest for justice. As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, he knew his battle had only just begun.
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In the hushed stillness of Lord Seo's ancestral home, a woman in her late 40s glided into the study. "Young Master, it's time to go call it a day and go to bed," she said with a mix of respect and affection. Seo Jin had already awakened from his troubled slumber. Papers and an inkstone lay scattered around him—remnants of a restless night.
"Good evening, Maidservant Shin," he replied, running a hand through his tousled hair.
"Perhaps if you'd stop studying so late—" she chided gently.
"I have to keep the family legacy alive," he said, standing and stretching. "Why did you come?"
"Your bath is drawn, and dinner will be ready shortly," she informed him, guiding him towards the bathhouse.
"Thank you," he said, appreciating her attentiveness. Steam wafted from the tranquil waters, enveloping him like a comforting embrace.
Upon returning, Seo Jin found Maid Servant Shin waiting with a cup of jujube tea. "This will help with your insomnia," she insisted, a playful reproach in her tone. "Perhaps if you married, your sleepless nights would end!"
Seo Jin chuckled softly, despite the weight of his responsibilities. "And have someone worry about me, like you do?"
"Exactly!" she said with a mock gravity. "You should be thankful for my dedication. Without me how will you survive?"
He took the tea from her, savoring the warmth. "I won't will I? You've done more than enough for me, Maidservant Shin. I owe you."
With a smile, she replied, "You'll always have my support, Young Master."
Their bond was palpable in the quiet exchange, forged through years of shared challenges.
"Please, take care of yourself," she urged, concern etching her features.
"I will," he promised, touched by her unwavering loyalty. "And about that wife…"
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "I'll hold you to that!"
After bidding her goodnight, he settled into bed, feelings of the day's events swirling in his mind. Yet amidst the turmoil, a glimmer of determination remained—he would face whatever challenges lay ahead.
As he drifted into sleep, the soft rustle of the night outside blended with the gentle cadence of his breathing.
And so, beneath the watchful gaze of the moon, the Seo residence embraced its slumber. Each heartbeat echoed in harmony with the passing hours, each moment bringing them closer to the dawn of new days filled with promise.
Early the next morning, the tranquil ambiance of Lord Seo's ancestral home was abruptly shattered by the urgent arrival of a rider at the gates. The horse, lathered with sweat and heaving from its frantic journey, bore a rider whose demeanor spoke of pressing matters of importance.
"Urgent news!" the rider shouted, dismounting swiftly.
Seo Jin rushed to the door, heart racing. "What is it? What's happened?"
The rider steadied himself, catching his breath. "You must come! Lord Jo has been murdered!."
The weight of that statement hit Seo Jin like a thunderclap, the world narrowing around him. "Lead me," he commanded.
As they moved, he felt the growing resolve within him. He was ready—no longer just a handsome latecomer but a man tran
sformed by the ghosts of his past, and the time had come to confront them.