Sisters in the Royal Court
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 13: Jisoo’s Shadow
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 13: Jisoo’s Shadow - A story of two sisters who both became consorts to the same Joseon prince, both elevated beyond their station, both genuinely loved by a man who chose them for who they were. One brilliant and brief. One quiet and enduring. Both essential to the tapestry of a family built from loss.
Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Romantic Oriental Male Oriental Female
1485 - Jisoo age 16, Jiwon age 18
Jisoo woke before dawn, as she had every day for thirteen years.
She dressed in the plain clothing of a palace maid, arranged her hair simply, and joined the other servants for morning duties. The routine was so ingrained she could perform it half-asleep—fetching water, preparing rooms, cleaning, serving, always moving, always working, always invisible.
Most days, she was content with this. The palace had been her home since she was four years old. She knew no other life.
But sometimes—on mornings when she glimpsed her sister through a doorway, dressed in silk and surrounded by respect—Jisoo felt the weight of the vast distance between them.
The Palace Maid’s Life
Jisoo served in her sister’s household now, which was both a blessing and a curse.
A blessing because she saw Jiwon regularly, could speak to her occasionally, knew her sister was happy and safe and loved.
A curse because the contrast between their lives was impossible to ignore.
Jiwon was a royal consort—elegant, educated, influential. She advised Prince Hyeon on important matters. She corresponded with powerful officials. She was consulted by princesses and praised by the King himself.
Jisoo was a palace maid—anonymous, replaceable, one servant among thousands. She cleaned floors and fetched tea and arranged rooms and disappeared into the background of palace life.
It wasn’t that Jiwon treated her poorly. Her sister was kind, always kind, finding moments to speak with her, asking about her wellbeing, trying to bridge the gap between them.
But the gap existed nonetheless. It had always existed, really—even as children, Jiwon had been the smart one, the talented one, the one who stood out. Jisoo had always been ordinary in comparison.
“You’re not ordinary,” Jiwon had told her once, when Jisoo had voiced this thought aloud. “You’re kind and gentle and good. Those are gifts too.”
But kindness didn’t write beautiful calligraphy. Gentleness didn’t catch the eye of princes. Being good didn’t elevate anyone from servant to consort.
Jisoo had long ago accepted that she would live and die in the palace as a servant. That was fine. She didn’t need grand dreams or ambitious goals.
She just needed to survive, to serve, to find small moments of contentment where she could.
Watching from the Margins
Working in Jiwon and Hyeon’s household meant Jisoo witnessed their happiness daily.
She saw them in the mornings, working together over documents, Hyeon asking Jiwon’s opinion on some administrative matter. She heard their laughter echoing from their quarters, private jokes and easy affection. She glimpsed stolen touches, the way Hyeon’s hand would rest on Jiwon’s waist as he passed, the way Jiwon’s face lit up when he entered a room.
It was beautiful. And it hurt in a way Jisoo couldn’t quite articulate.
Not jealousy exactly—she genuinely wanted her sister to be happy. But a kind of longing. A wondering if she would ever experience anything like that. If anyone would ever look at her the way Prince Hyeon looked at Jiwon.
Probably not. She was eighteen years old, a palace maid with no particular skills or beauty. Men didn’t notice her. Why would they?
“Are you well, Jisoo?”
She looked up to find Prince Hyeon watching her with concern. She was supposed to be arranging tea service, but she’d been standing frozen, lost in thought.
“Forgive me, Your Highness. I was distracted.”
“No need to apologize. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.” He smiled kindly. “You’re Jiwon’s sister. Your wellbeing matters to me.”
Because she was Jiwon’s sister. Not because of anything about Jisoo herself.
“I’m well, Your Highness. Thank you for your concern.”
He nodded and returned to his work, already forgetting her.
Jisoo finished preparing the tea, served it with perfect efficiency, and retreated to the background where she belonged.
The Sister Dynamic
Once a month, Jiwon made time for a private meal with Jisoo—just the two of them, no other servants, no formality.
These meals were precious to Jisoo, but also difficult.
“Tell me about your month,” Jiwon would say, genuinely interested.
But what was there to tell? I cleaned rooms. I served tea. I blended into walls and disappeared into corners like I’ve been trained to do since I was four years old.
“It was fine, unnie. The usual duties.”
“Are the other servants treating you well? Is anyone giving you trouble?”
“Everyone is kind.” Or at least indifferent, which was close enough.
“And you’re eating enough? Sleeping enough?”
“Yes, unnie.”
Jiwon would study her with worried eyes, clearly sensing that something was unsaid. But Jisoo never knew how to articulate the hollowness she felt, the sense of living in her sister’s shadow even when her sister was trying so hard to include her.
“I wish I could do more for you,” Jiwon said once, her voice sad. “Give you opportunities, elevate your position somehow.”
“You’ve already done more than enough, unnie. You brought me into your household. I get to see you regularly. That’s more than most siblings in palace service have.”
“But you deserve more—”
“I deserve what I’ve earned, unnie. Which is a position as a palace maid.” Jisoo kept her voice gentle, not wanting her sister to feel guilty. “I’m not like you. I’m not brilliant or talented or special. I’m ordinary. And that’s all right.”
“You’re not ordinary to me.”
“I know, unnie. But I am to the world. And I’ve made peace with that.”
Had she? Or was she just saying what Jiwon needed to hear?
The Brief Encounter
One afternoon, Jisoo was cleaning one of the outer rooms when Prince Hyeon entered unexpectedly.
She immediately bowed low. “Your Highness, forgive me—I thought these quarters were unoccupied—”
“They were. I just needed a quiet space to think.” He looked distracted, troubled. “Don’t let me interrupt your work.”
She returned to her cleaning, moving as silently as possible.
But after a few minutes, he spoke again. “Jisoo, can I ask you something?”
She froze. Princes didn’t ask servants things. They commanded or they ignored. “Of course, Your Highness.”
“Your sister. Is she happy? Truly happy?”
The question surprised her. “Why would Your Highness doubt it?”
“Because I know the palace can be isolating. And I know she gave up a lot when she married me—her independence, her privacy, her freedom from political scrutiny.” He rubbed his face tiredly. “Sometimes I worry that the weight of being my consort is too much for her.”
Jisoo set down the cloth she’d been using and turned to face him, forgetting for a moment to keep her eyes lowered. “Your Highness, my sister has never been happier. I’ve known her our entire lives, and I’ve never seen her glow the way she does when she’s with you.”
“You’re sure?”
“Completely sure.” Jisoo’s voice was firm. “She loves you, Your Highness. Being your consort isn’t a burden—it’s a gift. She knows how fortunate she is.”
He looked relieved. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
“May I ask why Your Highness doubts?”
He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “The situation with the Crown Prince. The political pressures. I worry that I’ve pulled her into dangerous waters.”
“She navigated those waters long before she married you, Your Highness. She’s been in the palace since she was five. She knows how to survive.”
“But now she has more to lose.”
“And more reason to fight to keep it.” Jisoo smiled slightly. “My sister is stronger than Your Highness gives her credit for. She doesn’t need protection—she needs partnership. Which you give her.”
Hyeon studied her with new interest. “You’re very perceptive, Jisoo.”
She felt heat rise to her face. “I just know my sister, Your Highness.”
“Still. That was well said.” He stood, apparently feeling better. “Thank you for the reassurance.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
He left, and Jisoo returned to her cleaning, her heart beating faster than it should.
It was the longest conversation she’d ever had with Prince Hyeon. And he had actually listened to her, valued her perspective, even thanked her.
It meant nothing, of course. He was being kind because she was Jiwon’s sister. But still, for a moment, she had felt seen.
It was a dangerous feeling.
The Weight of Comparison
As the months passed, Jisoo became increasingly aware of the vast difference between her life and her sister’s.
Jiwon attended court functions, dressed in silk. Jisoo scrubbed floors.
Jiwon advised on important matters of state. Jisoo fetched tea.
Jiwon was consulted by princesses and praised by the King. Jisoo was invisible to everyone except the servants who gave her orders.
It wasn’t resentment—not exactly. Jiwon had earned her position through exceptional talent and intelligence. She deserved every bit of her success.
But Jisoo couldn’t help feeling the weight of her own ordinariness more acutely when she saw her sister shine so brilliantly.
“You’re very quiet lately,” one of the other servants observed. “Are you unwell?”
“Just tired,” Jisoo lied.
“We’re all tired. Palace life is exhausting.” The woman studied her. “But you seem ... sad. Is something troubling you?”
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