Can’t you love me instead?

The Noble Consort meets Yetsune's curious gaze, her eyes heavy with sorrow. "She died during my family's massacre," she says quietly.

Yetsune's expression softens with sympathy, and even Yettiri's stoic expression softens. Beside them, Attendant Nan sighs, understanding how much it pains her mistress to unearth these buried wounds.

The Noble Consort forces a fragile smile to mask her sorrow. "There's no need for pity. It's been so long that the pain has faded," she says, though the slight tremor in her voice betrays her.

Yetsune exchanges a glance with Yettiri, both dreading the thought of losing the other.

The Noble Consort watches them with a wistful smile. She motions Nalan closer, whispering something softly. Nalan nods and slips out of the room, returning soon with a small brocade box. She sets it on the table before the Noble Consort, who opens it and gently slides it toward the twins.

"I hope you like this," the Noble Consort says.