Chapter 12….
News of Lady Sunbin’s miscarriage and subsequent confinement spread quickly through the palace. Yet, for some reason, the cause was never disclosed.
The Crown Prince, claiming he was unwell after visiting the Crown Princess’s quarters, even skipped his lessons. Rumors abounded that something serious must have happened.
With the Crown Princess having miscarried, attention once again turned to Consort Yang, the only expectant mother left in the palace.
Hong-ah found this situation unbearably irritating. Wasn’t it the Queen herself who had once told her to be at ease, since the heir could always come from another consort? Yet now, she was secretly hinting that it would be better if Consort Yang bore a son.
However, judging by Consort Yang’s rounded belly, every physician and even her relatives all insisted the child seemed to be a girl.
Even Hong-ah would have preferred a son to be born as heir, but her mother seemed detached, as though she had let go of all worldly concerns. Frail as she was, she could barely eat or sleep properly, so Hong-ah’s only wish was for the baby to be born healthy.
Time flew by even after Lady Sunbin’s confinement. Autumn’s coolness had turned to the harsh chill of winter, and soon enough, spring—and her mother’s due date—approached.
A physician was assigned to reside permanently in her mother’s quarters in preparation for the baby’s birth, and everyone spent their days in tense anticipation.
“Little Lady Hong-ah, you’ll have to sleep here for the time being.”
Hong-ah, who had been playing with her uncles at Yanghuije, tilted her head in confusion at the sudden announcement.
Though she often played there, she had never once slept over. Prince Hyun, who lived in Yanghuije, was also puzzled and asked his nursemaid:
“Hong-ah’s sleeping here?”
“Yes, Your Highness. His Majesty has given the order.”
“Why here? Hong-ah lives at Yeonggyeongdang.”
“The Crown Princess is in labor, and her quarters are noisy and chaotic. His Majesty has decreed that the young lady be placed temporarily under Lady Yang’s care.”
“She’s having the baby now?”
Hong-ah’s eyes widened, and she shot to her feet. There was still a month left before the due date. Come to think of it, the nursemaid delivering the news didn’t look pleased.
“What about Mother?”
“She is safe and well. Do not worry.”
Soon Lady Yang herself arrived and dismissed the gathering of children. Gong showed strong displeasure at being forced to return alone, but since it was a royal order, he could not insist otherwise.
Hong-ah was taken to a small room in the inner quarters. She picked halfheartedly at the simple supper provided, then tugged at the hem of the nursemaid’s skirt as maids busied themselves laying out her bedding.
“Tell me when Mother has the baby.”
“Yes, young lady.”
“Even if I’m asleep, you have to wake me.”
“…You won’t be able to see her right away.”
That was true. Even when she herself was born, she had been kept in seclusion for three weeks.
Still, Hong-ah answered firmly:
“That’s fine.”
“Understood.”
Only after the nursemaid promised several times did Hong-ah finally lie down under her blanket.
She tossed and turned, ears pricked for urgent footsteps, but all she heard were the occasional guards patrolling outside. No frantic messengers came.
For a child, she endured sleepiness quite long. Eventually, drowsiness overcame her, and she drifted off. When she awoke again, it was nearly time for the morning meal.
“Nursemaid.”
Still half-asleep, she called weakly. The nursemaid entered with a basin, soaked a cloth, and carefully wiped her small face.
As soon as Hong-ah rubbed her eyes and gathered her senses, she asked:
“How’s Mother?”
“…Still in labor.”
Still? She swallowed the words that rose to her throat. Though she had already turned five that year, such questions weren’t befitting of a child.
Yet worry gnawed at her. Over seven hours had already passed. Was this normal? She had no knowledge of childbirth, so she couldn’t tell.
“When will the baby come out?”
All she could do was voice her confusion in a childlike manner.
“The labor is a bit long, but it should be soon. We only pray there are no complications.”
The nursemaid’s face was tense with worry. After all, while modern medicine could handle early births without much danger, here the medical knowledge was rudimentary at best.
Of course, I know. Mother survives, and Princess Gyeonghye is safely born. But Mother’s suffering is real. If only I had studied medicine. It pained me that all I could do was watch.
“Lady Chamberlain!”
“What is this commotion?”
The nursemaid scolded Nani, who came rushing in. After hesitating, Nani lowered her voice.
“Her Ladyship Consort Yang has given birth just now.”
She’s born! Hong-ah fixed her eyes on Nani.
“Is Mother well?”
“Yes, it seems she is, but…”
“But what? Is there something wrong with the baby?”
“The child is a daughter, but she was born small and weak from coming early. She barely cried, so the physician says she must be closely watched.”
At that moment, Hong-ah thought of her frail mother. Naturally, her worry for her mother—whom she had known for four years—outweighed her concern for a sister she had not yet even seen.
After all, the little sister would grow up safely and even marry as Princess Gyeonghye, while her mother would die young after giving birth to a son. It was only natural her heart leaned toward her mother.
Her thoughts were already racing toward the Crown Prince’s palace.
“I want to return to the East Palace.”
She quickly clutched her nursemaid’s arm. The woman gave an awkward smile.
“My lady, forgive me, but His Majesty has ordered that you remain here for a while.”
“Then I won’t go to Mother. I’ll go to Father.”
“Even so, it’s not permitted. Please wait just a little longer, and you’ll be able to return.”
No matter how stubborn she was, this time she could not return to the East Palace.
Before, her wishes were often indulged, but not now. With the newborn frail and the threat of misfortune looming, the adults feared even little Hong-ah might be swept up in calamity.
She wanted to shout that her sister would not die, that she only wished to see her mother. But the only consolation given to her was the faint promise that she might return in three weeks’ time.
Several days passed with Hong-ah still staying at Yanghuije. Lady Yang and Prince Hyun tried their best to cheer her up, but her spirits remained low.
She knew no one was destined to die just yet, but in her young body her moods fluctuated wildly.
Among the figures written in history, the only one who did not exist was “Hong-ah.” She still hadn’t found the answer to what that meant for her.
“I want to go to the library.”
Lying alone on her bed, staring at the ceiling, she muttered to her nursemaid.
The library was a small annex located between the East Palace and Yanghuije. After hearing a story about the Crown Prince once reading dispatches aloud while holding her as a baby, the King had gifted it specially for her.
Naturally, none of the books there were suited to a five-year-old’s eyes. No adult believed a child would truly read them. Hong-ah herself never really tried to.
Most were Confucian classics, with little relevance to daily life. Still, the scent of paper and ink within the library always calmed her.
“But it’s cold…”
“I still want to go.”
Hong-ah clamped her lips shut. At her stubbornness, the nursemaid finally relented.
“Very well, but you mustn’t stay long. His Highness will worry.”
Since Lady Sunbin’s miscarriage, the Crown Prince had been doting on her even more than usual. The very reason she had not been allowed back in the East Palace was out of his deep concern for his daughter.
In this time, it was customary to keep children and the sick apart. Hong-ah understood her father’s worry, so she answered obediently.
“Alright.”
Bundled up so heavily she looked like a cotton doll, she was carried on the nursemaid’s back toward the library. The woman gently scolded her along the way.
“My lady, you really are peculiar.”
“How so?”
“Everyone knows how clever you are, but whenever your heart is troubled, you always ask to go to the library.”
The nursemaid knew well that Hong-ah sought the library whenever her heart was restless. Ever since her mother’s labor, she had insisted on visiting at least once every two days.
“Just because.”
Hong-ah buried her face into the nursemaid’s back and gave no further answer. Perhaps sensing her melancholy, the nursemaid also fell silent.
The library was not far. Once they arrived, the nursemaid set Hong-ah down before the steps.
Just beyond, a little further down, was the gate to the East Palace. She could not enter it now, and the thought of being barred filled her with sorrow. For a girl who knew her time with her parents was limited, it was all the more painful.
“I want to be alone inside.”
“Pardon?”
“You wait outside.”
“…What?”
The nursemaid blinked in surprise. The library wasn’t dangerous, but it wasn’t the sort of place to leave a small child alone either.
Yet ever since she had learned to talk properly, Hong-ah had grown more and more willful. The nursemaid could do nothing but wring her hands. Hong-ah, noticing her worry, added:
“I won’t do anything else. I’ll just sit quietly.”
“But still…”
The nursemaid looked at her with worried eyes. For all her precocious maturity, it sometimes hurt to see the child acting so much like an adult. She should’ve had the chance to simply be a child.
After a moment’s hesitation, the nursemaid nodded.
“Then I’ll wait right here. If anything happens, you must call out loudly. Understood?”
“Here? But it’s cold.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll feel at ease waiting here.
“…Alright.”
The nursemaid lifted Hong-ah onto the veranda and opened the library doors, then sat down on the steps.
Glancing back at her once, Hong-ah then stepped quietly inside.
The library was utterly still. Though her uncles had permission to use it as well, none of them ever came. That suited Hong-ah perfectly. She only wanted a quiet place to spend her time.
