The Letter from Beyond
Episode----- 25
Morning sunlight slanted across polished floors, catching motes of dust that danced as if free of the heavy air. Areum walked beside Junseo through the east wing of the palace — the hall where silence seemed older than stone, and every step echoed the weight of ancestry neither of them had chosen.
They had spoken little since the council. Words felt too loud, too fragile. Their fingers brushed sometimes — a small rebellion in a world where even breath was measured.
At the door to Junseo's study, a servant waited, gaze lowered, hands trembling slightly around a sealed letter.
"My lord," the servant whispered, holding it out.
Junseo took it without ceremony, but Areum saw it: the momentary tightening of his jaw, the quickening of breath. A letter bearing the foreign wax seal — an envoy's crest from beyond the city.
Fear skittered cold and sharp down her spine.
---
They closed the door behind them. Junseo broke the seal, the wax cracking like brittle ice. His eyes moved over the parchment, each line drawing shadows across his face.
"What is it?" Areum asked, voice small, afraid to break the hush.
"A summons," Junseo rasped, throat dry. "From the northern council. They demand I stand before them. Not as heir — but as exile. They've learned of the curse. And they see it as a threat to the city's future."
His hands shook, the letter rattling softly. "They threaten banishment. Stripping my name from the records. From memory itself."
Areum felt the floor sway beneath her feet. "Banishment," she echoed, the word tasting like iron on her tongue.
Junseo turned to her, the mask of heir cracking until only the boy she loved remained. "If I go," he whispered, "I may never return. If I stay, the council may force me to kneel — to renounce us. To say my love was nothing but curse-born."
Her breath caught. The garden felt suddenly far away. The vow they had dared to whisper under dawn light felt too tender to survive the knives of politics and fear.
"What will you do?" she managed, voice breaking.
"I don't know," Junseo said, sinking heavily onto the carved bench. His elbows rested on his knees, the letter crushed between his fingers. "Every choice feels like betrayal. Of you. Of the city. Of who I am."
Areum knelt before him, her hands covering his. "Then let's not decide in fear," she whispered. "Let's remember why we choose at all."
---
They spent that day hidden from the palace, in the ruined library that no one else dared enter. Ivy curled through broken windows, and old scrolls lay scattered like forgotten prayers. Here, the world felt smaller — just stone, breath, and memory.
Junseo read the letter aloud once more, voice hoarse: "Exile, unless proof of loyalty can be shown. The curse must be renounced. And the healer must be named a danger to the realm."
At the last words, his voice broke completely.
Areum reached out, tracing the scar along his cheek. "They ask you to deny me," she said softly. "To pretend your love was only the curse's lie."
"And I can't," he rasped. "Even if it costs me my name, my title… even the city itself."
---
Outside, rain began to fall — soft at first, then drumming against shattered tiles. They watched droplets gather on broken marble, running in crooked rivers.
"I keep thinking," Areum whispered, "about the night by the fountain. The first time you didn't command me. The first time I chose to stay."
"And I keep thinking," Junseo said, voice raw, "about the morning you held my hand in the hall, though every eye watched."
They fell silent. Words had brought them this far, but it was memory that kept them standing.
---
By twilight, Junseo stood, shoulders squared though his hands still trembled. "They will ask me tomorrow," he said. "To choose exile or power."
"And what will you say?" Areum asked, though her heart already knew.
"That I will not kneel," he breathed. "Not to them. Not to fear."
"And if they cast you out?"
His gaze met hers — raw, unshielded. "Then I will leave. But not without you."
---
The words settled between them, sharp and tender at once. The healer who had once believed love was duty; the heir who had once believed love was weakness — both standing on the edge of a road unseen.
"Leaving means losing everything," she whispered.
"And staying means losing us," he said.
For a heartbeat, silence pressed around them — the breath before a vow.
"Then I will go," Areum whispered, tears burning. "If you go, I go. Not as exile's shadow. But as your choice. And you as mine."
---
Junseo's breath caught, tears slipping despite the pride that held his spine straight. "Even if tomorrow breaks us?"
"Especially then," she vowed. "Love chosen in safety means little. Love chosen at ruin's edge becomes everything."
---
That night, they returned to their chambers. Neither slept. Rain whispered against the windows, echoing the rush of blood and memory in their veins.
At dawn, Junseo dressed in simple traveling clothes — no crest, no silk. Just a man ready to become exile for love.
Areum tied the cloak at his shoulders, her hands steady despite the quake in her chest. "Together," she whispered.
"Together," he answered, voice rough, hope and fear tangled.
---
They stepped from the palace into morning mist. Beyond the gates waited a road leading away from name and crown — but toward something curses could never command.
At the gate, a single guard lowered his gaze, saying nothing. Junseo paused, breathing in the city's scent — stone, incense, old blood, and fragile hope.
He looked back only once. Then forward, to where Areum stood, hand outstretched.
Their fingers met.
Step by step, they crossed the threshold — from heir and healer to exile and beloved.
And though exile loomed, love walked beside them, raw and undefeated.
---
Teaser for Ep 26:
Beyond the city walls, danger stalks the road north. Junseo's wounds worsen. And Areum must face the healer's oldest fear: that some hearts cannot be saved...