둘의 성소 | A Chapel Only for Two (bbangsaz)

II Beneath the Black Veil

Minji had grown accustomed to silence. It was the kind of quiet that clung—not peace, but absence. The air in her house never carried warmth. The walls only knew how to hold in cold. Loneliness had become her shadow, curling against her spine even in crowded rooms.

Men had touched her before. Too many. They had used her body the way one sits in a chair—functional, unthinking—then left without looking back. Her husband had been no different. He gave her a title like a collar and an inheritance like a chain. When he was gone, all that remained was a hollow space in her chest, a pit no amount of gin or whispered prayer could fill.

But Hanni disrupted that stillness.

The woman moved like dusk spilling through a room—soft, inevitable, and impossible to catch. She appeared without sound, her skirts barely whispering against the floor. She vanished just as easily, leaving behind the faint scent of lilies and something darker Minji couldn't name.

She drew baths that steamed in delicate curls, the water always at the perfect heat to make Minji's muscles unwind. She arranged lilies on the nightstand beside Minji's bed—lilies that never bent, never browned.

At night, Minji would feel her. That was the only way to describe it—feel. The brush of her presence standing behind her as she undressed, the tug of deft fingers loosening corset strings, the cool press of her palm at the nape of Minji's neck.

And yet Hanni never lingered. Her touch was always practical, never indulgent. Never longer than necessary.

Minji caught herself staring more than once—watching the maid's reflection in gilt mirrors, tracking the smooth precision of her movements. Some nights she half-hoped, half-feared that Hanni wouldn't appear. That her absence would be proof of some unholy truth Minji was too afraid to name. But she was always there. Solid. Present. Yet somehow... wrong.

One late night, brandy pooling amber in her glass, Minji decided to break the quiet.

"You watch me when I sleep," she said. Her voice was low, slurred with drink but sharp at the edges.

Hanni stood by the hearth, feeding the fire with a slow, deliberate motion. She didn't look over her shoulder.

"Yes," she replied simply.

Minji turned in her chair to face her fully. The brandy warmed her veins, loosening her tongue. "Why?"

Hanni placed another log on the flames, the light throwing gold and blood-orange across her skin.

"You grieve in your dreams," she said softly. "But not for him."

The words slid beneath Minji's skin like a blade. Her throat tightened. A flush crept into her cheeks—not from the brandy this time.

"You think you know me?" she asked, her tone sharper now, though her voice betrayed the tremor beneath it.

Hanni's gaze lifted at last, catching Minji's. In the firelight, her eyes glinted—deep, endless, and far too steady.

"I know hunger," she whispered, her lips curling slightly around the word. "And I know yours. It's older than death."

Something in the room shifted then. The fire seemed to burn lower, the shadows to lean in closer. Minji felt the air grow heavy, almost damp against her skin. She could hear her own pulse in her ears.

Hanni stepped toward her—not close enough to touch, but near enough that Minji could feel the faint coolness radiating from her body, the way a stone feels after nightfall. Her scent was stronger now—lilies and something coppery beneath.

Minji didn't move. Couldn't.

She wasn't sure if it was fear that held her in place... or the sudden, aching thought of what it might be like if Hanni finally did overstep.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆