Worried Days at Wolho Temple

Autumn was creeping in slowly but surely, not trying to catch the citizens of Daeho off guards but not alerting them either. The afternoons were drier and the night were cooler while leaves slowly lost their shine.

Three months into their quiet courtship, Seo Yul and Yi Na had fallen into a rhythm that felt—though neither dared say it aloud—inevitable. It began with shared meals and lingering walks. Now, it was the way they moved in sync without trying: the way their glances found each other across crowded rooms, or how she knew when he needed silence and he knew when she needed tea.

Yi Na’s days were spent weaving through the living heart of Daeho. She walked the alleys behind apothecaries where midwives hung herbs to dry, entered kitchens filled with steam and stories, and sat in inner rooms behind beaded curtains of noblewomen's quarters, listening. Yun Ok or Cho Yeong often trailed after her like shadows—always close enough for safety, never close enough to interrupt the trust she carefully built with every woman she spoke to.

She asked the sort of questions no scholar wrote down. “What do you feel the day before the bleeding comes?” “Was your second child easier than your first?” “When you first became a woman, who told you what it meant?”

Some women spoke easily, others wept, but all of them—maids, merchants’ wives, daughters of nobles—shared fragments of themselves that had long been hidden behind the folds of modesty and silence.

Yi Na carried their stories back to Sejukwon, where she sat with the other female medics and read them aloud like prayer offerings. She recorded everything she learned, page after page, annotating with the precision of someone who had bled, healed, and delivered others through pain. Her vision was clear: a medical book for women, by women—one she hoped to deliver to the Wolho Fortress Temple where she had once learned the first letters of her trade. Now, she wanted to give back something useful and lasting.

Meanwhile, Seo Yul went about his duties as head of Jeongjingak with the kind of discipline only he could manage. He commissioned expeditions for the other missing relics, investigated breaches in the records of Cheonbugwan by people with mischievous intentions, and oversaw scholars too eager to please the Crown with their service. But no matter how long his days stretched, his evenings were hers.

They dined late—always at Sejukwon or at one of the quieter garden pavilions in the eastern quarters of Jeongjingak. Yi Na would bring seasonal fruits wrapped in cloths, gifts from the women she spoke with or treated; Seo Yul would bring poetry, sometimes even folded paper puzzles from scholars he tested on her. They laughed, debated, sometimes argued—only to return the next night, still closer than before.

Their walks stretched into midnight, and Seo Yul never failed to escort her to the steps of Sejukwon. He would linger until she disappeared inside, waiting in silence with that half-smile that told her everything he couldn’t say aloud in public.

One such night, as the last of the lanterns flickered low and Yi Na nestled beside him on a bench overlooking the lotus pond, she began to speak of the women she met that day.

“There’s a potter’s wife in the Shaman's Village who says her womb hurts more during the full moon,” she said softly, her breath curling in the cold. “She’s had three children, and her midwife said that’s just how her body is. But I don’t believe that.”

Seo Yul tilted his head toward her. “What do you believe?”

“That no woman’s pain should be dismissed simply because someone’s used to seeing it.” Her jaw set, gentle but firm. “There are patterns. I just need more time and more stories. I’ll find the connection.”

“You sound like a scholar,” he teased.

“I was trained by nuns who are also doctors. We learn to pray and diagnose in the same breath.”

He chuckled. “A dangerous combination.”

She grinned but then turned quiet, picking at the edge of her sleeve.

He noticed the shift. “What is it?”

“You’ve… met the people I call my family now. The nuns at Wolho Fortress, I mean.”

Seo Yul had, earlier that month, gone to Wolho Fortress with the Jang Couple and some students at Jeongjingak because a part of the relic that causes plagues had been discovered there. It has been contained quickly enough but there has been an minor outbreak of plagues that the medics of Wolho Fortress Temple that stepped up to deal with.

He nodded. “Mother Abbess Song frightens me more than any sword I’ve faced.”

Yi Na laughed. “She frightens everyone. Even the gods, I suspect.” She hesitated, then asked, “Have you ever wondered where I came from before them?”

Seo Yul turned fully toward her. “Often. But I didn’t want to ask unless you wanted to tell me.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “My family name isn’t Song. It’s Na.”

He waited.

“My real name is Na In Jeong.”

She looked down, but he said nothing—only waited, patiently, like she knew he would.

“We were four children; three daughters and a son. My parents were commoners—my mother a seamstress for noblewomen, my father a runner at the Cheonbugwan in Wolho Fortress. They didn’t believe in hiring shamans for naming, said it was a waste of money. So they picked names based on words they liked. My sisters and I were named Na Joo Ah, Na In Jeong, and Na Chan Seong.”

Seo Yul tilted his head slightly. “What do those names mean?”

“It's literally what you know it to mean. Joo Ah, they said, meant something like 'precious child.' Mine, In Jeong, was from ‘kindness and uprightness.’ Chan Seong was supposed to sound like ‘bright star.’ I think they were trying but the names don't have the hanja character because they can't write it so our names mean ' I like it, I agree and I approve.”

Seo Yul was surprised, “And your brother?”

Yi Na gave a dry laugh. “Ah, yes. The chosen one. The last child. He was born eight years after the last sister. When he was born, suddenly they wanted a great future for him. They dreamed of him being a stargazer at Cheonbugwan, maybe even rising through the court to become a disciple under a master at Wolho Fortress. They paid a shaman to name him something grand. Na Myeong Jin, "to advance brilliantly". They spent money they didn’t have. Everything was for him after that.”

She paused.

“After that, life only became harder for me and my sisters. They began treating us like tools to increase his chances. Joo Ah Unni was married off as a second wife to a Magistrate’s son—the first wife had died in childbirth. She was just 15. Her initial betrothal was cancelled because the family no longer suited my parents' aspirations. She didn’t even cry on her wedding day. I think she gave up the minute Myeong Jin was born.”

Seo Yul’s brows furrowed. “And you?”

“They tried to arrange my marriage, too. To someone from a merchant family with ties to the Cheonbugwan. But I refused. Said I wouldn’t be traded like a bowl of rice. So I ran.”

Her voice faltered slightly. “They told everyone I died. Even when they came to worship at the temple and saw me walking the halls, they never acknowledged me. Never spoke to me.”

Seo Yul reached for her hand, warm and steady. “That must’ve hurt.”

“I used to cry about it,” she whispered. “Now, I just wonder if my brother became what they wanted. If he even remembers he had sisters.”

He let silence settle between them before saying, “You know, I’ve heard many names in my life. Some given in honor, others in shame. But none of them mean more than the name you chose for yourself.”

She blinked.

“Yi Na suits you,” he said. “Graceful, sharp. Not because a shaman said so. But because you made something of it.”

She tried to laugh but her voice caught, the sound caught in her throat. “Mother Song said the same. She gave me the temple’s family name—Song. And told me, ‘Live in a way that will make your name impossible to forget.’”

Seo Yul brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “You’ve already done that. To me, and to all those women who you save and are saving with your skills.”

She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. “I never thought anyone would want all of me. Even the hidden parts.”

“Well,” he said gently, “you have me, and I want every part of you if you will have me.”

They sat quietly for a while longer, hand in hand, watching the moonlight skim across the lotus pond like silver ribbons; silently promising themselves days even more beautiful than today.

******************

Life was good the next few days. Routines were kept, classes were attended, patients were treated and all was merry in Daeho. Then news came like the whisper of a blade unsheathing.

A messenger from Wolho Fortress arrived at Songrim, bearing letters for Sejukwon just before dawn, robes muddied from three days of riding. He carried two letters—one for the head physician, and one for Yi Na. The seal on hers was unmistakable: the slender, pressed emblem of the Wolho Nunnery. She read it quickly, lips tightening with each line.

A new strain of plague had swept through the capital city of Wolho Fortress, but this time it hunted only pregnant women—women whose bellies had barely begun to show. Some fell into intense unexplainable fever within a day of their first symptoms. Others miscarried. None had survived beyond the seventh day.

And no one could understand why.

Yi Na pressed her palm to her chest, steadying her breath.

Seo Yul arrived within the hour, already knowing the content of the letter because he had been at the palace. His expression betrayed none of the sadness she knew he was feeling.

“They need you,” he said quietly.

She nodded. “I have to go.”

Yun Ok, standing beside her, spoke up with that firm loyalty that always sounded like a challenge. “Then I’ll go with her.”

Seo Yul’s brow rose slightly, but he only nodded once, “Good.”

But Yi Na interrupted, “Unni, you need to stay here and treat Jin Ho Gyeong. How about we ask who among your friends can go with me? In case we need a mage?”

Seo Yul frowned but nodded, giving orders to Yong Pil to send a note from him to the Jangs, the Parks and Jinyowon. The Jang couple had responded that they would stay behind. They had a relic to investigate in the Daeho Fortress volcano, a lead too fragile to abandon. Besides, Wolho Fortress had gone under heavy quarantine. Only royal envoys, temple medics, and Cheonbugwan officials were permitted to enter.

Seo Yul might have found a way in if he truly pushed, but he didn’t.

He wouldn't endanger others for the sake of his own heart.

Jinyowon and the Parks responded, with the couple coming to Jeongjingak to visit that evening.

“I will be going with you.” Cho Yeon said, her hands around her teacup, quietly savoring the warmth before looking up at Yi Na. Dang Gu obviously was not pleased about it but he understood that a powerful mage was needed in this situation and Cho Yeong was not available. Yun Ok had to care for his mother-in-law so Cho Yeon was the right person for the job.

“My mother has granted access to any relics we need for our journey so I will be taking some relics to counter evil spirits and some that fight diseases.” Cho Yeon continued.

“And I will be sending you guys a shipment of herbs and roots that can be used for rare and common illnesses. In case any of them can work.” Dang Gu added, and received an appreciative pat from Seo Yul. His Yi Na needed all the encouragement she could get.

---

Their parting was brief.

Yina met him outside the boundaries of Songrim just before the ox-drawn cart arrived. The cold bit sharply at their skin, the scent of pine thick in the air.

She held his hands. “We were apart once this month already.”

“Yes,” he said. “But not for this long.”

Neither of them said what they truly feared: that this time, it might not just be distance.

“You’re going into fire,” he murmured. “Again.”

She smiled, softly. “I was born in fire. Don’t you remember?”

Seo Yul reached into the folds of his robe and drew out a pendant. It was small—obsidian, shaped like a teardrop, bound with silver wire.

“It’s from the Jang couple’s private collection,” he said. “They claimed it belonged to a healer in Gwanjeon. Said she wore it during the Fever Years and never fell ill.”

She blinked. “I thought you don’t believe in relics.”

“No, the Firebird saved me in the past, remember?” he corrected. “I don't believe in luck but I believe in you. And I want you to come back.”

Yina took it reverently, thumb brushing over the cool stone. “I will.”

And then, breaking all unspoken rules, she stepped into his arms. Just once. Just enough.

Yun Ok politely turned her back and smiled, holding her hands in front of her. These two were adorable.

*****************

Wolho Fortress Temple had changed.

Gone were the soft murmurs of prayer and the smell of roasted grains in the early morning. Now, silence reigned except for the occasional cough or cry of pain echoing from the infirmary wings. Monks and nuns moved like shadows, heads bowed, faces hidden behind medic’s cloth.

Mother Abbess Song met them at the gate herself.

“You came,” she said simply. “Good. This is?”

Yina bowed deeply, as did Cho Yeon. “My friend, Lady Cho Yeon. What do we know so far?”

Abbess’s face was grim. “Not enough. We suspect the illness may be borne through a combination of airborne and blood-transmitted contact. But it only affects women who have lived around the infected areas. Their families were not infected and the plague they have does not have any of the known symptoms. Something is feeding off their lives.”

“Do you have any suspects?” asked Cho Yeon.

“We don’t know. But it feels…” Her voice lowered. “Unnatural. This isn’t just sickness. It’s something older. Hungrier.”

Cho Yeon and Yina exchanged a glance and Yi Na swallowed. “Then we start with the ones still alive.”

A/N: ah, we have entered dark territory 😔 I also never thought we would come this way but here we are. Anyways, please vote and leave your comments. I love hearing from you all. Live and Love 💕💕💕