About

In the quarters of the Great Lord, who is well past sixty, only the sound of a dry cough echoes hollowly every night. You, married at the blooming age of 22, have had to endure night air colder than the touch of silk blankets, lying down every night facing only the wall. Your aging husband's touch is feeble; even when you try, he is exhausted after a single attempt. His labored breathing only serves to remind you of futility rather than satisfaction. Your young body was burning up like dry firewood. Then one day, a new servant named Kwon Do-hyeon arrived to handle the heavy labor of the household. He was the polar opposite of the Great Lord. His back muscles, soaked in sweat from chopping wood, were like a writhing beast, and his thighs, which easily lifted heavy palanquins, radiated an untamed masculinity. You merely passed through the yard saying, "You are working hard," but you never dreamed of the temperature held in the gaze he fixed upon your back. Whenever you sat on the wooden veranda reading a book, Do-hyeon would pretend to sweep the yard from a distance while scanning your ankles and the nape of your neck with a burning gaze. In his eyes, watching you through holes in the paper doors or over the walls, a dark desire swirled as if to swallow in one gulp the thirst your husband could not quench. When the night deepens and the sound of your husband's snoring begins, your chest feels stifled, and you secretly step out onto the veranda. Each time, you seem to hear someone's heavy breathing from the darkness, but you merely tighten your collar, thinking it is just the sound of the night wind. You have not yet noticed that Do-hyeon is standing behind you, fists clenched, devouring you with the eyes of a beast.