Chapter 14….
“Just… I don’t really know who I am, to begin with. That’s why it was so suffocating, and I hid.”
“You don’t know who you are?”
Even so, a child was still a child. Han-gyeom widened his eyes and asked back.
“Did you lose your mom? Should I help you find her?”
Han-gyeom waddled over on his short legs and grabbed Hong-ah’s hand. The soft little hand, without a single callus, was cold, but the intention behind holding hers was warm. Hong-ah smiled and shook her head.
“No. I know where my mom is.”
“That’s a relief.”
Han-gyeom pressed a hand against his chest and let out a sigh of relief. The sight was so cute that Hong-ah burst out laughing again. Perhaps because she had lived in tension for so long, even these trivial everyday moments melted her heart.
“This is a secret, but I’ve read Myeongsimbogam more than ten times too.”
Her mouth, feeling lighter, let the words slip out. Han-gyeom’s eyes widened at her words.
“Really?”
“Mm. I was watching others study, and I got curious.”
“You finished it, but the little prince boys are still stuck like that?”
Han-gyeom asked with a pure, innocent tone. Hong-ah laughed heartily and replied.
“That’s why my uncles don’t like studying with me.”
Han-gyeom looked at her, a little surprised.
“You’re really smart, huh?”
“Am I?”
“How old are you?”
“Five.”
“I thought I was the smartest.”
“You’re smart too.”
In truth, though Hong-ah’s body was that of a child, her mind was that of an adult. If anything, Han-gyeom’s cleverness was more remarkable. But not knowing this, he only looked at her with sparkling eyes.
Han-gyeom seemed to want to say something more but then, noticing the slanting sunlight slipping through the slightly open door, he suddenly stood up.
“Ah, I have to go. The sun’s setting.”
“When you leave, use the back door. The nursemaid’s at the front.”
She told him about a shortcut that led directly to Suwanjae. If one left through the library’s back door, passed through a small hidden tunnel, the shortcut revealed itself.
It was a secret passage used by her uncles whenever they caused trouble and came to Hong-ah afterward—whether they had pulled a prank, stirred up mischief, or just wanted to avoid studying.
The boy nodded without asking questions. She worried for a moment whether he had really understood, but since he seemed sharp enough, it should be fine.
Han-gyeom walked toward the back door. Then, as if something suddenly occurred to him, he spun around quickly. Their eyes met in the air.
“What’s your name?”
So quick to be curious, aren’t you.
She hesitated briefly but figured it didn’t matter—after all, they weren’t likely to meet again.
“My name is Hong-ah.”
“I see.”
Han-gyeom paused, softly repeating her name several times as though trying to commit it to memory. Then, looking at her, he waved.
“Goodbye, Hong-ah.”
With the setting sun at his back, the boy bid farewell and then vanished without a trace.
Now it was time to return to reality.
A few more days passed after that. Hong-ah spent her time at Yanghuijae playing with her uncles, thinking, visiting the library, or otherwise trying to soothe her boredom and uneasy heart.
Fortunately, though the baby was weak, she tenaciously held on. After a full month had passed, they were finally permitted to return to the palace.
The news that a girl had been born—a frail one, constantly ill at that—hardly stirred much interest among the royal relatives. It was a stark contrast to the fanfare of Hong-ah’s own birth.
Born prematurely and weak, she had been sickly since her first breath. Many dismissed her as a child not long for this world.
In this place, where infant mortality was so common, children were often not even given names until they grew past a certain age. Hong-ah, being born as a highly treasured princess, had been granted a name immediately, but that was a rare exception.
The Crown Prince, after much deliberation, decided to name the baby. He held a vague belief that giving her a name might help her live longer.
“Let her be called Hong-yeon (弘連), so that life may continue to spread far and wide.”
In consultation with the King, they bestowed the name Hong-yeon, carrying their hopes within it. Though some royal relatives scoffed that such a grand name was wasted on a girl, Hong-yeon grew steadily, even if plagued with minor illnesses.
But then something happened that Hong-ah had not expected. An imperial decree was issued regarding Consort Sun, who had been confined to Hyeonsimgak.
In Hong-ah’s memory, Sunbin’s demotion came later—after the homosexual scandal erupted. But for some reason, this time the punishment of confinement and degradation came much earlier.
“Though she was taken as Crown Princess because she was a descendant of a noble family, who could have imagined she would defy the laws of the palace? She is jealous and ill-tempered, has borne no heir, frequently beats palace maids and scolds them harshly. None of these matters are fabricated, for when I personally questioned her, she confessed to all.”
The King, with a voice heavy with grief, read the decree aloud.
“With such a lack of virtue, how can she serve as the Crown Prince’s consort, uphold the ancestral rites of the royal clan, or become the mother of the nation? Thus, after conferring with my ministers and informing the royal shrine, I hereby strip her of rank, reclaim her seals, and reduce her to a commoner.”
Having already once experienced the disgrace of deposing a Crown Princess, the King and Queen had hesitated to do so again. Yet this time, they resolved to carry it out.
Hong-ah wanted to know the truth of the matter, but her mother seemed unaware, and the Crown Prince would not tell her. He only held her close, stroking her hair, and said gently,
“You have nothing more to worry about. You are my precious first daughter in name and in truth. All you need to do is grow up healthy.”
On the night the decree was proclaimed, Consort Sun was carried out of the palace in a palanquin, screaming so loudly that her cries reached even Yeonggyeongdang.
Thus, the crimes of ruthlessly beating her mother and causing the death of a royal child had finally come back to tighten around Sunbin’s neck.
Hong-ah felt the history shifting, and with it, her mother’s death drawing nearer.
Meanwhile, discussions began about appointing a new Crown Princess. The East Palace itself became divided into factions.
Because the concubines brought in from outside did not suit the Crown Prince, talk spread that this time, one of his existing consorts would be elevated.
Lady Jeong Seunghwi was out of the question, as she had never received his favor. That left Lady Kwon Yangwon, who had borne the Crown Prince children, and Lady Hong Seunghwi, who currently held his affections. Which of the two would become Crown Princess? This became the hottest topic in the palace.
Lady Hong Seunghwi was a dignified woman. Though she monopolized the Crown Prince’s favor, she was neither arrogant nor secretive about it. She was of an entirely different nature than Hong-ah’s mother, who always appeared timid and subdued.
“Surely Lady Yangwon will be the one raised to Crown Princess.”
Indeed, the fact that Hong-ah’s mother had borne him two daughters made her appear the more advantageous candidate. Those who supported her mother firmly believed she would become Crown Princess.
The nursemaids of Hyeon and Gon prayed fervently.
“Every night we pray to all the gods we know—heaven, earth, Buddha—that Lady Yangwon may be appointed Crown Princess.”
“If not Lady Yangwon, then who could possibly take that place? She has borne him two children already. Even if Lady Hong holds His Highness’s affection, does he not also show respect to Lady Yangwon?”
But Hong-ah’s mother herself dared not even dream of becoming Crown Princess.
And when news arrived that Sunbin, expelled from the palace, had taken her own life, guilt weighed on her all the more. She said she could not bear to climb to that position upon another woman’s death.
To Hong-ah, her mother seemed frustratingly passive, but knowing the outcome already, she stayed quiet and only tried to comfort her.
“Wouldn’t Lady Hong Seunghwi be made Crown Princess instead? All the previous ones fell out of favor, so isn’t it fitting that this time, the favored one should be chosen?”
There were indeed many who argued that way. And it was not unreasonable.
It wasn’t only the palace maids torn between the two. The court officials themselves were also debating.
“Though the Crown Prince favors Lady Hong, I think Lady Kwon is more suitable. Between the two, who is truly worthy to be raised? Let us confer further.”
At the King’s command, the ministers said,
“Both Lady Yangwon and Lady Seunghwi are of noble descent. It is fitting to choose the most virtuous among them. The decision rests with Your Majesty alone.”
The King wavered. It was true that harmony had been lacking in the Crown Prince’s household. He was inclined to grant Seunghwi the position, so that the favored woman might stabilize him.
But Lady Kwon had already borne two of his children. Though she lacked his affection, she had not been completely disregarded either.
“Father, please appoint Lady Kwon Yangwon as Crown Princess.”
The King’s hesitation was ended by the Crown Prince’s audience.
It wasn’t an easy decision for the Crown Prince either. He had already seen two wives expelled, and this would be his third Crown Princess. He had to be prudent.
Most importantly, he still had no male heir. This appointment could not be mishandled.
“Lady Kwon has already borne me two daughters. If I discard the rightful candidate to elevate a mere favorite, and later fail to produce an heir, the regret would be immeasurable. Moreover…”
The Crown Prince trailed off. The King waited calmly.
“The only children I have now are Hong-ah and Hong-yeon. How much sorrow have they endured because of Sunbin? To honor their mother and thus honor them is what is right.”
The Crown Prince set aside his favorite and raised Lady Kwon’s hand. The King, too, deemed Lady Kwon—who had conceived thrice—the more suitable choice.
The very next day, the royal decree was issued: Lady Kwon Yangwon was to be appointed Crown Princess.
