CHAPTER 5 : A Shadow In Silk

> [FLASHBACK – Three Days Earlier]

The moon hung like a pale eye over the cliffside shrine, its gaze as watchful as it was distant. Raon knelt before a cracked mirror — the only thing left standing in the ruin. With trembling fingers, he drew out a dull blade and stared into his reflection.

Not the warrior.

Not the fugitive.

Not the prince born under a blood moon.

But someone else entirely.

His jaw tensed as he pressed the blade to his scalp. Shhkk — hair fell in thick locks to the dusty floor. Each strand carried a piece of who he was — his lineage, his freedom, his name.

He bound his chest with cloth so tight he could barely breathe. His soldier’s limbs shrank under the layered widow’s robes he’d stolen from a burial home. Dark ink bruised his eyes to hollow them out, and a tiny mole drawn beneath his right cheek would distract anyone from the glint in his gaze.

The final piece — the veil.

He placed it over his head and whispered to the moon,

> “Tonight, I bury Raon. From now on, I am Sobi… a widow without a voice.”

He tightened the sash, picked up a bundle of herbs, and walked toward the Widow Village—where only the broken and forgotten were allowed to survive.

> [PRESENT – Widow Village]

“Hey!” Lira’s voice sliced through the morning mist like a blade through silk. “You dropped your sash again.”

Raon — or rather, Sobi — turned too sharply, nearly tripping over the stone steps. The veil nearly slid, but he caught it just in time.

“Oh! T-thank you,” he said in a higher, softer voice. Still hoarse from yesterday’s panic.

“You really are clumsy,” Lira muttered, narrowing her eyes. “Almost like… someone who’s not used to skirts.”

Raon’s heart hammered. Did she know?

Lira leaned closer, her scent — jasmine and charcoal — curling around him like a trap. “Where are you from again, Sobi?”

“I… I don’t remember,” he whispered.

Lira frowned, then offered a half-smile. “Well, as long as you’re not a man sneaking in here, you’ll survive.”

She laughed — not gently, not warmly, but like thunder cracking a quiet sky.

Raon chuckled awkwardly. “Of course not. I’m as much a widow as any of you.”

Except I have a blade under my robe, not tears in my soul.

---

Later that day, as they carried baskets of herbs to the drying room, Raon noticed something… strange. One of the jars, labeled “Nightshade,” had been swapped with dried lotus. Another had red ink smeared on its lid — the mark of death.

He leaned closer. “Who handles the poison stores?”

Lira raised a brow. “Why do you ask?”

Raon hesitated. “Just… curious. It’s not safe, is it?”

Lira’s face went still. “No. Especially when someone’s already died this week.”

He stopped. “Died?”

“A widow named Bomi. Found with blackened lips. Tongue split.”

She said it without emotion, but her fists were clenched.

“Did they say what happened?”

Lira glanced sideways. “They said she fell. But that’s not how poison works.”

Raon’s spine chilled.

> This wasn’t just a village for hiding.

Something dark coiled here, like rot beneath roses.

---

That night, Raon sat alone outside the shed, sharpening his hidden blade in the moonlight. He couldn’t sleep — not with the memory of Bomi’s body in his mind, or Lira’s strange knowing smile.

“Practicing embroidery, are we?” came a voice behind him.

He jumped — Lira stood there, arms folded, one brow raised.

Raon quickly hid the blade beneath a cloth. “I… I like sewing.”

She gave him a long look. “You really are a terrible liar.”

He panicked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she stepped closer, “you wear your veil too loose. You walk like a soldier. You flinch at every scream in the night. And your hands…” She caught his wrist. “Calloused. Not from weaving. From swordplay.”

He yanked his hand back, pulse pounding.

Lira didn’t press. Instead, she knelt beside him, staring at the stars. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to expose you… yet.”

A silence stretched between them, thick and fragile.

“Why did you come here?” she asked finally.

Raon exhaled. “To find something… or someone. I’m not sure anymore.”

“Then you’re like the rest of us.” Her voice broke slightly, the first crack in her armor. “Hiding from something we couldn’t defeat.”

They sat in silence, side by side — not friends, not allies.

But broken things learning the shape of each other’s shadows.

---

Later, as Raon prepared for sleep, a soft knock rattled the shed door.

He opened it to find a small bundle: a pair of cleaner robes, some ointment, and a note.

> “Fix your veil. And try smiling more. You’re too handsome for a ghost.