If You Claim the Fallen Heiress - Chapter 13

He walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps, his disheveled appearance of no concern to him. When he stopped in front of Yuseol, his gaze swept over her from head to toe. Even beneath the dim eaves, his striking brown eyes began to darken, sinking into something unreadable.

Yuseol was taken aback that a man she’d just met would look at her like that. Then again, it was probably just the act of a rake trying to play the part of a serious gentleman.

Having encountered plenty of such idlers in the palace, she retreated gracefully, putting distance between them.

The memory of drinking poison in front of Jiwoon still unsettled her. He must have guessed by now—that Han Yuseol had been abandoned by her fiancé, stripped of her family and status. Maybe he even thought she was the kind of woman he could touch as he pleased.

Yuseol’s response was icy.

“You’re standing too close.”

He only smiled, clear and bright as a passing cloud. A face like his was unfairly advantageous when it came to seducing women.

In that moment, Jiwoon’s voice reached her, smooth and deliberate.

“Another twist in your tragic life, it seems. But that’s just how existence is.”

When their eyes met, Jiwoon’s gaze was razor-sharp, unnervingly vivid. There was something inhuman about the weight behind it, as if he were something other than a man.

Those eyes felt like they were dissecting every crevice of Han Yuseol’s life. Flustered, she quickly lowered her gaze.

Jiwoon continued, his tone almost comforting.

“If you don’t give up, even the gods will watch over you.”

Before his soft voice could fade, he turned and walked down the stone-walled path.

What a strange man.

***

She wandered the outer quarters for a long time before returning. The whole while, she turned Jiwoon’s words over in her mind. She’d expected him to be the type to linger under the pavilion with suggestive small talk. But instead, he’d thrown out those cryptic words and left….

Dazed, she sat on the wooden bench in the courtyard outside her quarters. The heaviness in her chest refused to lift.

Her life had been fraught with hardship from the very beginning—her mother had died the day she was born. And in that environment, her nature—craving recognition and companionship—had felt like a curse.

Her family and servants had always ignored her. Over time, she grew used to it, until she began spending her days alone, as if she’d been born for solitude.

Most of her time was spent admiring the scenery outside her room. Sometimes, she captured it in paintings to pass the hours. When that grew dull, she’d sneak straw from the storeroom and fashion dolls out of it.

Then, when she was about eight, everything went wrong. It started when her eldest sister, two years her senior, snatched away one of her straw dolls.

Deep down, little Yuseol was happy—at least her sister had acknowledged her. As a token of gratitude for the rare attention, she dressed a newly made doll in tiny clothes and offered it as a gift, her face bright with hope.

But instead of thanks, she was met with a sharp slap and her sister’s wounded expression. Her sister hadn’t wanted the doll—she’d just wanted to fight. She lashed out, blaming Yuseol for their mother’s death, for being born at all when another child might have spared her.

Yuseol pleaded, insisting there must have been another reason, begging her sister to help her find it.

But her sister was convinced—if any child but Yuseol had been born, their mother would still be alive. Yuseol burst into tears. Between sobs, she wondered what the opposite of “being born” was. If she knew, she’d do it right away.

Her sister stomped on the straw doll, demanding she stop crying. In a frantic attempt to stop her, Yuseol tangled with her sister, and they tumbled across the courtyard.

Their father witnessed the commotion. Her sister was punished, made to stand in the courtyard with her hands raised. Yuseol was dragged away by servants and locked in the storeroom.

She screamed at the door, desperate. Father, I’m sorry! Just forgive me this once! If you do, I swear I’ll never be born again!

Only later did she learn the truth—their father, desperate for a son, had pushed their mother through one difficult birth after another. The guilt had eaten at him. Maybe Yuseol, the product of that greed, had been his curse all along.

Locked in the storeroom, she watched the sunrise again and again. The blood from her scraped palms dried stiff against her skin. As cold and hunger dulled her senses, she realized what the opposite of being born was.

It was death. Or something close to it—something sorrowful, painful, and hollow. She closed her eyes, resigned.

Her consciousness wavered. She couldn’t tell if she was still breathing. She couldn’t even move her fingers.

Then, as if pulling her back from the brink, a voice called to her.

‘Yuseol, Yuseol, wake up. If you don’t want to hurt anymore, you have to eat something.’