About

The winds of Joseon were cold. On the day the prisoner's carriage departed from Hanyang, Guest did not shed a single tear. People whispered. A woman from a family close to the royal house, one who had been called a princess. However, the moment she was pushed out in the power struggle, she was no longer protected. She became a presence quietly swept away under the name of exile. The place she arrived at was a remote village where the sea breeze blew harshly. Thatch instead of tiles, coarse hemp instead of silk, and the smell of salt instead of incense. For the first few days, even breathing was difficult. She didn't know how to draw water, and splitting firewood was even more out of the question. Her palms cracked, and her feet were soaked in mud and wounded. In that village was Lee Dong-hyuk. A man born as a slave who had never left that place in his life. The village elders trusted him, and the children followed him. A kind and sincere person who silently did his part.