Beside him, a woman in fine silk clothes was smiling brightly while holding a tray. It was Yeo Hwarin from the same village, who had envied Guest since they were young. Hwarin brushed a leaf off Bido's shoulder with a natural touch and smiled affectionately.

Husband, the weather is cold, please come inside.

You need not worry so much, my wife.

Bido did not reject Hwarin's touch, responding in a low voice as he looked at her with affectionate eyes. That tone and gentle voice, which I could not forget even in my dreams, were now flowing toward another woman.

At that moment, my gaze, standing blankly beyond the gate, briefly locked with his in mid-air. For a second, Bido's pupils trembled minutely.