Chapter 28 …
“You still don’t seem to understand my way of doing things.”
Prince Anpyeong, who had been reciting a passage, asked with a sly smile.
Hong-a didn’t bother to deny it. Despite having lived in the modern world, she had grown accustomed to this society and its conservative attitudes.
The very first books the Crown Prince had provided for her education had been the Classic of Filial Piety and Biographies of Virtuous Women—books written for women.
But from the very first day of lessons at Yeonggyeongdang, Prince Anpyeong brought out Jeong Do-jeon’s Joseon Gyeonggukjeon. Honestly, it was so unusual that she sometimes wondered if he was in his right mind.
Even learning Jeong Do-jeon’s teachings was something to be cautious about. But more than that—teaching minbon ideology (the principle that the people are the foundation of the state) to a woman? Surely, in the entire Joseon, Prince Anpyeong was the only one who would dare it.
“Won’t they blame you, Uncle, for letting a girl learn so much?”
It wasn’t wrong. The rumor that the young prince had been given a tutor had been circulating even back when Hong-a was still living in the palace quarters.
And when word spread that this tutor was Prince Anpyeong, the gossip took wings, filling the capital and giving conservative ministers something to chatter about.
She didn’t mind being the subject of such talk. Though the matter had grown larger than expected, it was, after all, something she had intended. What troubled her was that Prince Anpyeong might end up carrying the blame.
Yet, despite her concern, Prince Anpyeong slowly shook his head.
“There’s no need to mind the foolish words of those who misunderstand the classics. The saying that men and women are different doesn’t mean they are unequal, does it?”
“But the truth is, most people in the world are foolish.”
“That much, I know very well.”
Prince Anpyeong answered with a broad, refreshing laugh.
“If I meant only to teach you something like the Biographies of Virtuous Women just because you are a girl, I would never have offered to become your teacher in the first place. Whoever has talent deserves to learn. It is my joy. And who could fault me for taking joy?”
Hong-a was left speechless. At times, he seemed completely out of his mind, but then he would say things like this—so serious, so rational. Though, perhaps, in this era, that itself was the abnormality.
“There are three joys of a gentleman. Could ruling a kingdom compare to them? The first joy is having living parents and brothers without misfortune. The second is looking up at the heavens without shame and down at the earth without guilt. The third is finding outstanding talent under heaven and teaching it.”
Prince Anpyeong murmured dreamily, quoting Mencius.
“My pastime is teaching you. So pay no heed to what others say. If you concern yourself with every word, life becomes exhausting.”
“That may be true… But when people gossip outside, and I am reciting Joseon Gyeonggukjeon instead of the Biographies of Virtuous Women, I worry that such rumors might trouble you, Uncle.”
“That is not for a child like you to worry about. Even His Highness, my elder brother, would never have thought I’d only teach you something like the Biographies of Virtuous Women. Of course, he probably didn’t expect me to be quite this thorough either.”
Ha ha—his hearty laugh filled the room.
“And besides, your grandmother would teach you the Biographies of Virtuous Women far better than I could. Who could embody the ideal of a virtuous woman and wise mother more than her?”
But even in the face of his reassurance, Hong-a’s worries did not fade.
When the lesson ended and he left, Hong-a went out to the rear garden to calm her troubled thoughts. Autumn had arrived; the leaves were dressed in shades of red.
‘It’s fortunate that I’ve grown close to Prince Anpyeong… But the results are far greater than I expected. Is this really okay?’
Royal blood was bound by ties both strong and endlessly distant.
Even for Hong-a, among the dozen or more uncles she had, only a few could truly be called close. Lord Ikhyeon and Lord Suchun, who had been companions since childhood, and Prince Anpyeong, now her teacher, were the only ones she could count.
She had little interaction even with the Crown Prince’s full siblings, and so their relationships remained distant. With so many royals, unless there was a strong reason, most bonds stayed neither near nor far.
In that sense, becoming close with Prince Anpyeong was indeed a good opportunity.
But perhaps… too close.
‘Strange as he is, Uncle Anpyeong is a good man. Surely, he’ll stand by Danjong when the time comes. And now that we’re closer, maybe he’ll be even more willing to act.’
But that also meant he would remain a prime target of Prince Suyang’s suspicions—and the chance of losing him only grew greater.
‘Prince Anpyeong… is executed by Prince Suyang, who seizes power during the Gyeyujeongnan.’
Hong-a had not even come to terms with the looming loss of her mother. She tried to ignore the word death, but the reminder struck her again. Another person close to her, with a destiny already marked, was now weighing heavily on her heart.
‘Can I save Uncle Anpyeong?’
She was in torment. Living life in constant preparation for partings was exhausting. She wasn’t sure if she could change even one of the countless deaths she knew awaited.
Deliberately, she bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood burst forth.
If she couldn’t save those who stepped into her circle—those who were caught up just as she intended—then no penance could ever absolve her.
‘I must save him. Somehow, I must.’
She vowed it.
In her past life, Hong-a had lost both mother and father. The pain of losing precious people had become familiar, and yet, each time, it cut her anew. It was agony she never wished to feel again.
The Crown Prince, her mother, little Hong-yeon, Uncle Anpyeong who gladly became her teacher, and the two uncles who had been her childhood playmates—she wished for all of them, every one she cherished, to remain safe. In the end, that was all she sought.
Autumn drew closer. During an audience with the Crown Prince, Hong-a carefully spoke.
“Father, I have a small request.”
“You? How unusual.”
The Crown Prince, who had been fondly watching Hong-yeon noisily sucking on a sweet, looked surprised.
Until now, his daughter had asked for nothing, except once to be allowed outside the palace in summer. She seemed shy even now, unable to lift her head as she spoke, which made him prod her gently.
“In the summer, when I stayed outside the palace, I realized how unfamiliar and clumsy I am with many things. Even though, when I marry, I’ll be given a residence, it isn’t truly the same as the palace. I’ll need to oversee my own household.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
The Crown Prince answered with a sorrowful voice. Hong-yeon seemed utterly uninterested in this conversation, continuing to munch happily on sweets.
“But I have no close relatives from whom I can seek advice in such matters. Of course, I could ask Aunt at Prince Anpyeong’s household, but she isn’t my age.”
“Hmm. True enough. Whether princesses or ladies, they’re all quite a bit older than you.”
“Since I was young, I’ve grown up surrounded by uncles, so I’ve taken an interest in books. But as for the duties of a woman, I know nothing.”
Calmly, Hong-a continued.
“So… it is a difficult request, but if I could have a companion my age, someone from whom I could learn both of women’s etiquette and also something of the outside world…”
She trailed off with difficulty. The Crown Prince regarded her in silence for a while.
Every time Hong-a endured that gaze, it felt as if he saw right through her. His eyes were so intense that she could understand why Suyang had not dared reveal his ambitions while his elder brother lived.
“Have you someone in mind?”
He asked. Just as Hong-a resembled her father, the Crown Prince also resembled her. He knew she would not have raised the matter without a clear aim.
Hong-a decided not to circle around any further.
“If you could summon the daughter of the Vice Minister of the Central Advisory Council as my companion.”
“The Vice Minister…?”
At her words, the Crown Prince repeated Han Hwak’s name. No matter her wishes, if he disliked the idea, it would be dismissed. Swallowing nervously, Hong-a waited for his reply.
“Didn’t his daughter just recently marry Lord Gye-yang?”
He muttered to himself. The room fell quiet, save for the sound of Hong-yeon slurping his treat. After a long pause, the Crown Prince gave a weary laugh.
“Not bad. The match is proper.”
“Then you grant permission?”
“What could a father deny his daughter?”
Though he spoke warmly, he would not have granted an unreasonable request. The Crown Prince was calculating by nature. This was something that did him no harm, and it was also because he cared for Hong-a.
Fortunately, the Vice Minister, Han Hwak, was someone the Crown Prince needed as well. For Hong-a to suggest forging ties with his family brought him considerable benefit too.
And the Crown Prince’s word was not light. That very night, he secured the King’s permission, and the next morning, a message was sent, summoning Han Hwak’s daughter to the palace as Hong-a’s companion.
Thus, in only three days, the Vice Minister’s daughter entered the palace as the companion to the Lady of Danyang.
“Your Highness, the Vice Minister’s daughter has arrived.”
“Yes, please show her in.”
Hong-a answered with an eager voice. She hadn’t expected things to move so swiftly.
Indeed, power was useful. All her quiet fretting had been meaningless in comparison.
“Your Highness, I am Lee San, fifth daughter of Vice Minister Han Hwak. I humbly greet you.”
Lee San.
The daughter of Han Hwak—elder sister to Queen Insu.
Finally, they stood face to face. Hong-a’s heart beat faster at the thought.
‘I haven’t done anything yet.’
Just welcoming Lee San as a friend did not, in itself, change a single thread of her grim fate.
But she could not simply sit idle.
“Please, have a seat.”
Hong-a greeted warmly.
Lee San bowed politely, then settled onto the cushion. Her face betrayed her tension—flushed and unable to hold her gaze steady. Watching her, Hong-a was the first to speak.
