In a palace Soojin was disrobed, she was being adorned with silk.
Not a fabric in her eyes, more so of a commodity.
Silk, shimmery golden, reflecting the rays of light that bounced off of its hem.
Tightened over her torso, so tight that she could pass out from all the blood pooling in her lower body.
The corset had been hand stitched by the Royal Tailor who'd even stitched Soojin's Red Wedding Hanbok.
The fit of the dress was marvellous, if she could say so herself.
You know that feeling of detachment one has, to things they're given for the very first time and told it's theirs?
That's how she felt in the dress.
You could embellish her in Rhinestones, White Pearls from China, a Diamond studded Crown, the finest Silk from the lands of India and yet she'd stare back at a reflection, foreign to her.
Surely, living a life in deprivation for a majority of her time had nudged her in the wrong ways.
