Sisters in the Royal Court
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 22: Living with Ghosts
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 22: Living with Ghosts - 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
PART FOUR: REBUILDING
Late 1490 - Early 1491
The first night was the hardest.
Jisoo stood in the quarters that had been Jiwon’s, staring at the bed she was now expected to share with Hyeon, and felt paralyzed by the wrongness of it all.
This was her sister’s bed. Her sister’s husband. Her sister’s life.
And Jisoo was supposed to just ... step into it? Pretend it fit?
“You don’t have to sleep here,” Hyeon said quietly from behind her. “I can have other quarters prepared. Or I can sleep elsewhere. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
She turned to find him looking equally uncomfortable, equally lost.
“Where did you sleep last night, Your—Hyeon?”
“Here. In this bed. Where I’ve slept every night since...” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Then I’ll sleep here too. We’re married. It would be strange for us to sleep separately.”
“Strange is relative at this point,” he said with the ghost of dark humor. “Nothing about this situation is normal.”
“No,” she agreed. “But we’re doing it anyway.”
The Awkwardness
Everything was awkward.
How to address each other. Where to sit. How to occupy space in quarters that felt too small and too large simultaneously. What to talk about. What not to talk about.
Jiwon’s presence was everywhere—in the calligraphy on the walls, in the books she’d loved, in the arrangement of furniture that reflected her preferences. Every object was a memory, every corner held her ghost.
“I could have these removed,” Hyeon offered again, gesturing at Jiwon’s calligraphy. “Put away. Stored somewhere—”
“No.” Jisoo’s voice was firm. “She lived here. She made this place beautiful. We don’t erase that just because it’s painful to remember.”
He looked at her with something like relief. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. She’s part of both our lives. Part of why we’re here together. Pretending she didn’t exist would be...” She searched for the word. “Dishonest.”
“Dishonest,” he echoed. “Yes. That’s exactly right.”
So they left Jiwon’s things where they were and learned to live among the memories.
The Sleeping Arrangement
That first night, they lay in bed together—both fully clothed, maintaining careful distance, neither touching nor speaking.
The silence was oppressive.
“This is absurd,” Hyeon finally said. “We’re both lying here like corpses, terrified to move.”
“I don’t want to disturb you.”
“You’re not disturbing me. But we also can’t spend every night like this, frozen and miserable.”
“What do you suggest?”
He was quiet for a moment. “Honesty. We tell each other what we need, what makes us uncomfortable, what helps and what hurts. No pretending, no politeness that creates more distance.”
It was a good suggestion. Practical. “All right. Honestly—I don’t know what you expect from me. In this bed, in this marriage. I don’t know what my role is supposed to be.”
“I don’t expect anything,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to demand ... intimacy. Physical intimacy, I mean. Not unless and until you want that.”
Relief flooded through her. “Thank you.”
“But I would like...” He hesitated. “I would like not to feel completely alone. If you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to at least know you’re there. Not have this gulf of empty space between us.”
Slowly, carefully, Jisoo moved closer. Not touching, but near enough that she could feel the warmth of him, hear his breathing.
“Like this?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
They fell asleep that way—close but not touching, present but not intimate. Two lonely people sharing space, sharing grief, trying to figure out how to coexist.
The Daily Routine
Days were slightly easier than nights.
They both had duties that filled the hours. Hyeon had administrative work he’d neglected during his worst grief. Jisoo now had the responsibilities of a consort—managing the household, attending certain court functions, learning protocols she’d never needed as a servant.
The princesses helped, teaching her what she needed to know.
“You’re doing well,” Myeonghye told her after a particularly tedious court function. “Better than I expected, honestly.”
“I’m terrified I’m going to do something wrong and embarrass him.”
“You won’t. You’re careful and observant. Those are good qualities in a consort.” Myeonghye’s expression softened. “And you’re kind to my brother. That matters more than perfect protocol.”
Kind. Was she being kind? Or just ... present? Going through motions?
Jisoo wasn’t sure anymore.
The Comparisons
The palace couldn’t help but compare her to Jiwon.
“The first consort was so brilliant. This one is ... quiet.”
“She doesn’t have her sister’s talents, that’s clear.”
“Poor Prince Hyeon. First a remarkable wife, now an ordinary replacement.”
The whispers followed Jisoo everywhere. She tried to ignore them, but they stung nonetheless.
She was ordinary compared to Jiwon. Everyone knew it. Even Hyeon knew it—he’d married her precisely because she wasn’t Jiwon, because he could protect her without feeling like he was replacing his dead wife.
But being constantly reminded of her inadequacy wore on her.
“You seem troubled,” Hyeon observed one evening.
“Just tired.”
“Jisoo, we agreed on honesty.”
She sighed. “People compare me to her constantly. And I always come up short. I’m not brilliant. I’m not talented. I’m just ... here.”
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