Sisters in the Royal Court
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 32: The Foundation
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 32: The Foundation - 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
1500-1502 - Years of stability
The years that followed the realization were marked not by dramatic events, but by deepening roots.
Marriage, Jisoo learned, was like a tree. The first years were dramatic—sprouting, visible growth, obvious change. But the later years were about roots spreading deeper, branches growing stronger, the whole structure becoming more solid and permanent.
Their love had always been real. But now it was also certain.
1500 - Minji age 9, Jinwoo age 7
Minji’s calligraphy had advanced to the point where Lady Song declared her ready to begin creating her own compositions.
“Not just copying classical texts,” the elderly teacher explained to Hyeon and Jisoo. “She has the technical skill now. She needs to develop her own voice, her own artistic expression.”
“At nine years old?” Jisoo asked.
“Some people develop voice at fifty and it’s weak. Some develop it at nine and it’s strong. Your daughter has something to say. Let her say it.”
So Minji began composing—poems, observations, thoughts transcribed in elegant characters. Some were childish, of course. But some showed remarkable insight.
One piece she wrote about her mother:
Quiet river runs deep
Not loud like mountain waterfall
But steady, strong, forever
When Jisoo read it, she cried.
“You see me,” she said to her daughter.
“Of course I see you, Mama. You’re not invisible anymore. You haven’t been for a long time.”
The reversal—Jisoo once the invisible servant, now clearly seen and loved by her daughter—was profound.
“Thank you,” Jisoo whispered, holding the composition carefully. “I’ll treasure this forever.”
Jinwoo, meanwhile, had begun studying with an architecture tutor.
Master Han was a renowned designer who initially resisted teaching such a young child. But after seeing Jinwoo’s spatial reasoning and careful attention to structural principles, he’d been convinced.
“The boy has a gift,” he reported after three months. “He understands load-bearing principles intuitively. Sees how weight distributes, how materials behave. I’ve taught adults for thirty years who don’t grasp these concepts as quickly as he does.”
“What should we do to support his learning?” Hyeon asked.
“Let him build. Give him materials, space, permission to experiment. And when he’s older—twelve or thirteen—send him to study the great temples and palaces. Let him see masterful architecture firsthand.”
They gave Jinwoo a workshop space—a corner of the garden where he could build without disturbing anyone. He spent hours there, creating increasingly complex structures, testing theories, learning through trial and error.
“He’s happy,” Jisoo observed, watching their son work with intense concentration.
“He is. Both of them are happy.” Hyeon pulled her close. “We’re doing something right.”
“We’re doing everything right.”
1501 - Minji age 10, Jinwoo age 8
The year Minji turned ten, she asked about her Aunt Jiwon with new awareness.
“Mama, you were a servant when you came to the palace, right?”
“Yes. A very young servant, but yes.”
“And Aunt Jiwon became Father’s consort. She was elevated from servant to royalty.”
“She was.”
“But then she died, and you married Father. So you were also elevated from servant to consort.”
“That’s right.”
Minji considered this carefully. “Was it strange? Stepping into her life after she died?”
It was a perceptive question—more sophisticated than Jisoo had expected from a ten-year-old.
“It was very strange,” she admitted honestly. “I felt like I was living in her shadow. Like I could never measure up to what she’d been.”
“But you’re not in her shadow now.”
“No. I stepped out of it. Or maybe I grew into my own light. Either way, I’m my own person now, not just Jiwon’s sister.”
“Good.” Minji said it with satisfaction. “Because you’re an excellent mother, and I wouldn’t want anyone else.”
The declaration was so matter-of-fact, so absolute, that Jisoo felt tears prick her eyes.
“Thank you, little one.”
“I’m not little anymore. I’m ten.”
“You’ll always be my little one. Even when you’re fifty.”
“That’s embarrassing. Please don’t say that when I’m fifty.”
“No promises.”
Jinwoo’s questions about Jiwon were different—more practical, less emotional.
“Father, why did Aunt Jiwon die?”
They were working on one of Jinwoo’s building projects together. Hyeon considered how to answer honestly without overwhelming his eight-year-old son.
“She got very sick with a fever. Her body couldn’t fight it off, and the medicine available at the time couldn’t help her.”
“Could medicine help her now?”
“Probably not. Fevers like that are still very difficult to treat.”
“I should study medicine,” Jinwoo announced. “Figure out how to treat fevers so people don’t die.”
“That’s a noble goal. Though you’re currently studying architecture.”
“I can study both. Buildings need to be healthy too—good air flow, proper drainage. Same principles as bodies.”
Hyeon had to smile at his son’s characteristic lateral thinking. “That’s true. Good architecture does promote health.”
“So I’ll study both. Build healthy buildings and healthy people.”
“The world would be better for it.”
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