Washable Pads and a Clumsy Cling
The next morning after a surprisingly comfortable night—more so than I'd feared—my period cramps weren't as bad as I'd worried. Contrary to Hwaya's concerns that they might worsen, the pain was milder than expected. Maybe because I'd endured it for a day already, I'd grown somewhat accustomed? The discomfort bothered me less than the sensation of something oozing out from inside my body. It felt vividly real, this thick sludge draining away. And knowing it was menstrual blood? That hit hard. With the blood soaking into the cloth pad wedged between my legs, the growing dampness, the intensifying musky stench—it was driving me insane.
"Ma'am, I'll keep your outfit light today."
Whether it was consideration for my period or not, I appreciated how quickly they finished dressing me. They simply braided my hair loosely without any ornaments and draped me in muted, achromatic tones—nothing flashy. Best of all, fewer layers inside made it so much more comfortable. Normally, I'd wear a short underskirt-like thing called a soksokgot over my undergarments, then underpants on top, followed by a long underskirt. But today, they skipped it all, just the soksokgot and skirt. No outings planned, and this consideration for my unwell state was incredibly grateful. If they'd bundled me up like usual in this condition, I might've lost my mind. I wish they'd do this every day. Why the obsession with voluminous skirts requiring all those inner layers? The maids themselves wore slim, straight skirts without any bulk while working, yet they dressed me like a doll.
"Ma'am, please rest then."
As Hwaya finished with my hair and stood, reaching for the small box beside her, my body flinched like a kid caught red-handed. My eyes kept darting to it, just like a child watching their mom take away a hidden report card.
'Change it when you wake up, ma'am, and put it in here.'
And rightly so—that box held the cloth pad I'd used all night, the one called a gaejim, stained a bloody mess.
It was trash anyway. Couldn't they just tell me where to dispose of it?
"I could throw it out myself..."
If I did it, I'd feel less embarrassed, and Hwaya wouldn't have to handle such a task. Win-win, right? Now that it wasn't like yesterday, I could get up on my own without...
"No, we don't throw them away."
...trouble?
The cramps must be worse than I thought. No way I'd gotten used to it in a day. I was hallucinating now.
"Hwaya, call the Mouse Doctor. I think my ears are off. Haha. It sounded like you said you wouldn't throw that away."
Throwing away that filthy cloth? What nonsense.
I must've passed out last night, not slept peacefully.
"No, we don't throw them away."
"Why not?!"
She insisted they didn't.
"Ma'am, gaejim are meant to be washed and reused."
"You didn't tell me that yesterday!"
Unlike modern disposables, these were like cloth diapers—meant to be laundered. No wonder the material seemed high-quality for a one-use item, and it held its shape well.
"Leave it. I'll handle it. Please."
Her taking that pad—reeking from being between my legs all night, caked in thick blood—to wash it herself? Absolutely not. I didn't want to prove that shame could kill a person!
Let me do it instead.
"Ma'am."
Hwaya's expression softened with an unusually gentle smile. Was my desperate plea, clutching her skirt hem, finally getting through?
"Everyone gets help during their first time."
Nope.
Thinking back, Hwaya always wore that tender smile when she was being utterly merciless. She slipped the skirt from my grasp in an instant, opened the door, and walked away.
I wanted to yell after her, but that would just spread rumors through the estate myself. So I screamed her name desperately in my mind.
Having my pad confiscated like that, I leaned my head against the wall and stared blankly out the window. No use crying over spilled milk—next time, don't spill. I'd just resolved to handle it myself when a heartbreaking realization hit: next month, this would happen again.
If I couldn't fix this possession, I'd suffer every month because of someone else's womb I'd never use. Was this the price of living another's life? It came so punctually, it might be.
"Nice aroma."
As Hwaya left, another maid brought tea, which I sipped. Jagyakcha, peony tea, good for periods. The floating petals gave it a richer scent than expected.
The scent was nice.
The taste? Nonexistent. No bitterness, no sweetness—just nothing. I wasn't a tea person to begin with, but this felt like warm water. Sorry they went to the trouble, but after one sip, I set the cup down. Instead, I popped the honeyed apple preserves that came with it into my mouth nonstop. Each one was sickeningly sweet, yet they kept going down. No matter how many, the bitterness in my mouth lingered.
The room was quiet, I was alone staring at the sky, chewing those cloyingly sweet candies—and yet a bitterness rose from me, like an aftertaste.
"Maybe take a walk."
I muttered aloud in the empty room. My back still ached from cramps, but sitting still felt worse. Better to wander the estate than waste time like this. I'd been possessed a while, but mostly bedridden recovering, so I hadn't explored much. I'd eaten here countless times and still didn't know where the kitchen was.
Plus, idling made me hyper-focus on the period—sticky, depressing, irritating. And... anyway.
For the first time since possession, I stepped out alone.
A short walk from my room brought me to the grand hall veranda, where maids bustled cleaning.
"Did you sleep well last night, ma'am?"
"Yes."
A few who met my eyes exchanged greetings before resuming work. With the tigers visiting as guests, they were deep-cleaning for company. Thanks to that, no one trailed me uncomfortably—I could roam freely. Well, people everywhere, but still.
The freedom mattered. I shoved my feet into nearby shoes and stepped into the courtyard.
This estate wasn't some massive Western-style castle from romance fantasies. Spacious, yes, but traditional hanok style: a large compound with many smaller buildings. The one I stayed in—Hwaya called it the inner quarters? Anyway, stepping into the courtyard from there revealed roofs of unknown structures peeking over the walls surrounding us.
Inner walls partitioned everything. Amazing I'd run straight to the garden that first chaotic day without hitting one. Damn walls should've blocked me. Your fault.
Blaming the innocent wall, I strolled along it slowly.
"My lady, what are you doing out here feeling unwell?"
A welcome voice from behind.
"Felt stuffy, so I thought I'd walk. Am I in the way?"
"Of course not. This is your home."
Dressed formally like when we went to the village, probably heading out, Sohwi followed me.
"Going somewhere?"
"Yes. With the village incident, plenty want to see me."
In this vast, busy estate, I was the only idle one. Surely some of their tasks were mine originally. But a useless guy like me occupied the spot, so they had to pick up the slack.
"And I must keep my promise to you, my lady."
Was this fox a mind-reader? Just as my gloomy thoughts peaked, he stroked my head.
"Right? My lady who stamped right here?"
He patted his right cheek playfully with one hand.
"It was a misunderstanding!"
"Haha! I liked it."
No room for gloom now—I was too busy yelling to shut his mouth. But being like this seemed to chase away the bitterness in my mouth.
"Will you be late?"
"I'll try to return by dinner. Don't worry."
"But..."
"That's why they give us sangu the grand title—work when needed. No need for you to fret."
This way, I'd kill time alone in my room till evening.
"Then off you go. Take care of yourself, my lady."
I couldn't stand it. Without thinking, as he turned, I grabbed his pinky finger.
"My lady?"
Sohwi turned, glancing at our hands, so I ducked my head, avoiding his eyes.
Why did I do that? Why? Why?
I couldn't understand my own actions. Why grab his finger all of a sudden? Yet my hand gripped tighter, refusing to let go. Body and mind out of sync. Dizzy. Hot.
"My lady?"
Clinging silently was weirder. Say something. Anything.
"Before you go... ummm... wanna have some tea with me?"
Not this lame pickup line!!