I Became My Ex-Boyfriend’s Concubine - Chapter 62

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 62

“……The sky?”
A strange silence fell over the room.
Gang Sang-sik and Myeong-i, standing beside her, exchanged bewildered glances, unable to make sense of what she was saying.
“Yes. Perfectly convincingly.”
Dan-bi answered Gang Sang-sik’s question of whether he’d heard correctly with the finality of a nail driven home. Her finger pointed precisely at the ceiling.
“I’m going to make that sky unable to refuse sending down rain.”
Not long ago, on the day she’d spoken with Hyun while staring at the luminescent pigment, Dan-bi had conceived of an idea.
The shining stone she’d received as a reward item.
The mission she had yet to complete: “Make it rain.”
The hint written below it: “Moon’s Tears.”
The legend passed down from the previous king: “The Tears of the Moon bring rain.”
And the jade seal, now vanished without a trace.
When she fitted all those pieces together in order, she arrived at a single conclusion.
Perhaps if she could create conditions that matched the situation of “Tears of the Moon” perfectly enough, rain might fall in response to that hint.
Already, during the previous cycle’s mission to deal a fatal wound to Hyun, she’d discovered a loophole in the system—if the circumstances seemed plausible enough, the system would acknowledge the result even if the causal chain was somewhat twisted.
The phrase “Moon’s Tears” itself had been a clear enough hint. In reality, there was no chance whatsoever that the moon would weep.
That meant creating a similar situation artificially was, in effect, a silent instruction from the system itself—a prompt for her to complete the mission.
It almost felt as though the system were opening a path for her to fulfill her objective, one way or another.
Dan-bi decided to take that bait willingly.
To do that, she would first need to create an earthly moon equal to the one in the heavens.
And this was the beginning of that plan.
“Watch carefully what I’m about to do.”
Dan-bi poured clear water into a large bronze basin she’d prepared beforehand. Then she reached into the box Gang Sang-sik had brought and scooped up a handful of white alum powder.
“Dan-bi, alum is usually used to set dyes—are you adding it now?”
Gang Sang-sik squinted, offering unsolicited commentary. Despite his objection to the order of steps, Dan-bi paid no mind and scattered the alum powder across the water like snow.
“This powder is delicate. If I don’t prepare the water first, it’ll all escape before it ever touches the silk.”
Dan-bi stirred the water to dissolve the powder. Immediately after, she poured the luminescent pigment she’d ground for three days and nights into the basin.
“……!”
In that instant, the room flooded with an undulating blue radiance.
Myeong-i and the man beside her gasped, as did Gang Sang-sik, who’d been muttering just moments before—all of them grasping the edge of the basin with open mouths.
“Heavens, the water is glowing!”
“It’s as if you’ve poured an entire night sky into a basin.”
Even as they marveled, Dan-bi didn’t relax her vigilance. She couldn’t be certain that the techniques for handling special pigments in the modern world would work the same way with silk in this time.
‘Please, let this work.’
Dan-bi carefully lifted the silk and pushed it into the dye bath. The white fabric began to slowly drink in the blue light.
“Now, Gang—hold this end. You there—the other end! Myeong-i and Som-i, keep the cloth from folding and gently wave the edges.”
At Dan-bi’s command, everyone moved in perfect unison. Throughout, Gang Sang-sik kept offering commentary on the end she held.
“Dan-bi, if you knead it too hard, you’ll damage the weave!”
“This isn’t the time to worry about weave. The particles need to be driven deep between the silk threads. Press harder!”
As her palms worked the silk, she felt the fine grittiness of the luminescent powder transmit through her skin.
Each microscopic particle was like an incantation calling for rain—the crucial element that would determine the success or failure of the Prayer for Rain Ceremony.
‘It has to be a perfect enough moon to deceive the system.’
After working it for a long while, Dan-bi gave the signal.
“Now, slowly lift it out.”
Four pairs of hands raised the silk from the water.
Whoosh—
The silk emerged from the bronze basin with the sound of cascading water, emanating a brilliance so strange and ethereal in the dimness that it seemed almost otherworldly.
Not a limp, wet piece of fabric, but rather something like a stream of flowing moonlight itself.
In the hushed silence where everyone stood slack-jawed, Dan-bi gazed at the sight with quiet satisfaction.
In truth, she hadn’t been entirely without worry. Without fully understanding the silk of this era, she couldn’t be certain the techniques she’d used outside would work here.
But the brilliant radiance spreading before her eyes was proof that her expectations had not been mistaken.
Dan-bi turned to Myeong-i, who stood entranced, and asked softly:
“What do you think, Myeong-i? Can you see it?”
“Yes, Dan-bi. It looks just as though you’d carved down the moon and wove it into cloth.”
Tears had gathered at the corners of Myeong-i’s eyes as she stared blankly at the silk.
Gang Sang-sik, too, remained wordless, his gaze fixed on the blue droplets falling steadily from the soaked silk.
Dan-bi wiped the sweat from her brow, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“That’s enough admiration for now. The real work starts here.”
Dan-bi turned her head toward the back courtyard, nestled in the deepest recesses of the Sang-ui-won.
The sun had already vanished beyond the horizon, and a thick darkness had settled over the sky.
What came next was a race against time.
For these luminous threads to fully set into the silk, they had to dry in darkness, holding their breath.
“Quickly now! We must move these before the light fades.”
At Dan-bi’s urging, Gang Sang-sik and Gwon snapped to attention, each seizing an end of the silk.
Above the damp fabric, the rippling blue light painted the corridor they passed through with an otherworldly radiance, as if they were walking through the depths of the sea.
“Dan-bi, are you certain it’s wise to simply spread such a precious thing in the open ground? If someone were to steal it…….”
Gang Sang-sik glanced nervously about as he spoke.
To him, this silk was no longer mere cloth—it had become something sacred, an object infused with spiritual power.
“That’s precisely why I need you, Director Gang. You’ll need to issue a strict order that no one approaches the back courtyard of the Sang-ui-won.”
Dan-bi pushed open the door at the end of the corridor and stood before the drying rack she had prepared beforehand.
A secluded place, walls on all sides with only wind able to slip through.
As they began laying the silk pieces one by one in the deepening darkness, a miraculous sight unfolded—as if a path of blue moonlight were opening across the void.
“Myeong-i, Som-i—you must space the pieces apart. Never let them overlap, or the light will shatter if they wrinkle.”
Dan-bi herself grasped the edge of the silk and smoothed away the creases. The cool dampness clinging to her fingertips felt pleasant against her skin.
‘Now there’s nothing left but to wait.’
Dan-bi gazed at the luminescent silk flickering alone in the darkness.
The particles that had seeped between the threads would remain where they fell as the moisture evaporated, glowing with undimmed brilliance.
Though she’d only just taken the first step, Dan-bi at last allowed the tension within her to ease, if only slightly.
“Do you think it will really rain?”
Myeong-i, standing beside her, asked carefully.
Dan-bi lifted her gaze slowly beyond the silk. The drought-stricken sky, where not a single star glimmered, remained as indifferent as ever.
Without turning her eyes away, Dan-bi turned the question back on Myeong-i.
“Would you like it to rain?”
“Yes.”
There was not a moment’s hesitation.
“But Myeong-i, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
“What is it, Dan-bi?”
“How did you end up here, working at the Sang-ui-won?”
She had wondered this for some time.
Why was such a young child already bearing the harsh labors of the Sang-ui-won?
Myeong-i hesitated for a moment before she spoke.
“It was because of the drought. Rain barely fell in the village where I lived for several years.”
Myeong-i continued, turning the thread in her hands over and over.
“The rice paddies cracked like a turtle’s shell, and my father sighed at the sky every day. My younger siblings cried from hunger, but there was nothing to give them. So I thought I had to reduce the mouths to feed, and when I looked for work, I ended up here.”
Dan-bi stared at Myeong-i intently.
In normal circumstances, she would be at an age to be running and playing at school with friends.
The thought that such a child had come to the palace of her own accord to support her family’s livelihood struck a chord in Dan-bi’s chest.
“Don’t you miss your family?”
“Of course I do. But if I work hard here, my siblings can eat, can’t they?”
Myeong-i lifted her head.
“That’s why, Dan-bi, this Prayer for Rain Ceremony must succeed. If it rains, my siblings and parents can smile again.”
“Then they shall. When the moon shines with such sorrow, how could the heavens hold back their tears?”
Dan-bi gazed down at Myeong-i, who was now laughing so hard her whole body curved.
At first, it had been merely a means to complete a quest.
But now, Dan-bi truly and desperately wished for rain to fall.
It was because, having spent time among the people of the Sang-ui-won, she had come to know their circumstances one by one.
Young Myeong-i’s reasons for entering the palace, the care poured into every stitch of the garments crafted in hope of the Prayer for Rain Ceremony’s success.
All that longing stemmed from one source: the parched sky above.
For someone, this single bolt of silk was not merely fabric—it was the life and only hope of their family.
Dan-bi gazed up at the indifferent heavens.
And she made a vow: this time, no matter what, she would make the rain fall.
A week passed as Dan-bi devoted herself to crafting the luminescent moon.
“Dan-bi! Lady Dan-bi!”
At the urgent cry from outside, Dan-bi bolted into the corridor.
In the center of the Un-cheong-gak courtyard, Myeong-i stood gasping for breath, sweat streaming down her face. Dan-bi rushed forward barefoot and seized her shoulders.
“Myeong-i! What is it? What’s happened?”
“That… that is…….”
At last, tears spilled from Myeong-i’s quivering eyes.
“An order has come down forbidding the making of any garments at Sang-ui-won under Dan-bi’s direction.”
“What?”
It made no sense.
She had begun this work with direct permission from the Crown Prince himself. How could anyone dare defy a royal command?
Dan-bi seized Myeong-i by the shoulders, asking urgently.
“What are you talking about? Who on earth could—!”
“It is the Queen Consort.”
Dan-bi’s head snapped up at the voice that followed. Kwon, who had entered behind, wore an expression of deep unease.
“Her Majesty the Queen Consort has commanded the complete prohibition of the Precious Consort Dan-bi’s access to Sang-ui-won.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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