Chapter 43
The Return
“Your Majesty! Are you all right?”
When Gyeom returned to camp leading the elite troops, the generals and strategists rushed out to meet him. But the moment they saw the state of the returning soldiers, they fell silent.
Even in the dim light of dawn, their appearance was ghastly—so much so that it seemed a miracle they had survived at all.
“I had some trouble toward the end, but I’m unharmed.”
Gyeom removed his blood-soaked helmet and spoke flatly.
A late-arriving archer unit had nearly caused heavy losses, but Gyeom had been in the middle of the enemy camp, where there was plenty of cover—and since most soldiers there were from the Yuldo Kingdom, they had taken the brunt of the arrows instead.
It seemed the archers, in their aggressive rush, had forgotten that their own allies were within range when they gave the signal to attack.
‘Thanks to that, escaping was actually easier.’
Because so many Yuldo soldiers were struck down by friendly fire, the archers quickly ceased shooting. After that, withdrawing from the enemy’s midst was easier than breaking in.
Gyeom dropped something he had been holding with a dull thud.
“This is…”
“The head of Yuldo’s vanguard commander.”
Even in a surprise assault, surviving after charging into an enemy force many times larger than his own was astounding enough—but Gyeom had gone a step further and returned with the enemy’s vanguard commander’s head.
Generals, ministers, and soldiers alike gazed up at him in silence as he sat proudly on his horse. On their faces was an unmistakable expression of reverence—for the man who had once again proven his unmatched might.
“Their vanguard is dead, and their main camp was breached, even if only briefly. They must be in utter chaos by now.”
“Your Majesty! Word has arrived—the Yuldo forces are abandoning their camp and retreating!”
“Hooray! Long live His Majesty!”
The sentry’s report sent the soldiers into a roar of elation. They struck the ground with their spears and pounded their shields with their swords, their cheers tearing through the crisp morning air.
Gyeom had not only led a successful surprise attack but had driven the Yuldo army far into retreat. Thanks to this, the Hwangseon Kingdom had gained precious time—for the wounded to recover, and for the weary soldiers who had marched long distances to rest.
“At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before Yuldo surrenders!”
“Their morale must be shattered after losing their vanguard so easily! Serves them right!”
Though Hwangseon had always held a numerical advantage, a series of misfortunes had kept them from using it effectively. Now, with time to regroup, the tides had turned.
“Still, we must not grow complacent. Who among you will pursue the fleeing Yuldo army and claim merit?”
“I will go, Your Majesty!”
“No, allow me! I’ll teach those southern barbarians a lesson they’ll never forget!”
The generals scrambled to volunteer, eager to chase down the retreating enemy. Their fighting spirit soared to the heavens.
“Very well. Jang Wang and Yang Gil—take your men and show them Hwangseon’s true strength.”
“We obey, Your Majesty!”
The two commanders mounted their horses with swift, practiced movements and galloped out of the camp, their men rushing after them in excitement.
Watching them with a disapproving expression, Cheon Taesu quietly turned and left.
“Your Majesty, you must be exhausted. Allow me to escort you to your tent.”
But Gyeom, still staring off into the distance, dismounted silently, helmet still in hand.
“Your Majesty…?”
The adjutant called after him as Gyeom walked past, but the emperor didn’t stop.
Step, step.
His armor clinked faintly as he strode toward a medical tent not far away—specifically, toward the faint white figure standing before it.
The closer he got, the clearer the figure became.
Long, black hair so fine it could scatter in the breeze.
A face pale as porcelain.
Delicate, finely drawn features.
A slender back and proud posture, fragile yet strong.
All of it slowly came together into one person—Danseol.
When Gyeom realized the hazy silhouette was hers, he was the one caught off guard.
‘Can she see my face?’
No. From where she stood, she could only see his vague outline. Yet Gyeom had felt an irresistible pull toward her, as if drawn by something unseen.
When he first spotted that faint figure in the distance, an inexplicable feeling had struck him—that she was waiting for him.
Since the death of his mother, since he’d become emperor, there had been no one who waited for him.
No one who cared whether he survived the brutal battlefield.
No one who rejoiced in his victories or mourned his pain.
“You’re… late.”
“I told you I’d return before dawn, didn’t I?”
Gyeom gestured toward the still-dark sky, reminding her that night had not yet ended.
Danseol lifted her head to look up—the eastern horizon had brightened, but the sun had not yet risen.
“…So it hasn’t.”
Her eyes shimmered softly as she looked toward the coming light.
He was the first person who had ever made a promise to return—and actually kept it. Each time someone dear to her had failed to come back, Danseol had blamed herself.
Was it because I was weak? Because I couldn’t protect them?
But Gyeom was different.
He had kept his word. He had come back.
Seeing him there, covered in blood, made her throat tighten with emotion.
‘This isn’t because of me…’
As the memories of Seolhwa’s fall grew heavier over time, guilt had shackled her like iron chains. But it was Gyeom—of all people—who had shattered those bonds and opened a window in the prison of her despair, giving her a way out when she was ready.
“So… what exactly are you doing right now?”
“Ah…”
His cold tone made her suddenly realize her state.
Her clothes were stained with blood, a damp cloth hung from her hand, and her hair was a tangled mess, matted with sweat from tending to the wounded through the night. She looked utterly disheveled.
“I was caring for the injured—”
“Taeyeom!”
Before she could finish, Gyeom barked sharply.
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Taeyeom rushed over, pale and panicked.
“Explain this situation.”
“Well, um…”
He glanced nervously between Danseol and Gyeom before giving up and speaking truthfully.
“This afternoon, Her Ladyship visited the medical tent. She felt pity for the suffering soldiers and, with Lord Sui’s permission, assisted the physicians.”
“So you’re saying you allowed the emperor’s consort to tend to wounded soldiers?”
“Her Ladyship personally administered treatment, just like the physicians—”
Taeyeom fell silent under Gyeom’s icy glare. He knew better than to argue further.
“Put that down and come with me. Now.”
“I’ll finish what I started first.”
Even against his frostbitten tone, Danseol’s eyes were stubborn as she gripped the wet cloth tighter. She hadn’t done it for praise—but being scolded instead of appreciated still stung.
Maybe that’s why her reply came out sharper than she meant.
Though, truthfully, even if it weren’t Gyeom, she would’ve wanted to finish properly before leaving.
“W–What are you doing?!”
Danseol yelped as Gyeom strode over and swept her into his arms.
“If you won’t come on your own, I’ll just carry you. Now stay still.”
He tightened his grip around her waist, holding her firmly. Overpowered, she gave up and let him.
After being held a few times before, his embrace no longer felt unfamiliar—broad, solid, and burning hot.
‘…The smell of blood.’
The metallic scent clung to him. His armor was soaked crimson, his hair gleaming with sweat in the faint light. She could easily imagine the brutal battle he’d just survived.
“Please put me down now.”
Only when they reached his tent did Gyeom finally set her down.
“From now on, don’t waste your time on such foolish things.”
She had thought his scolding was over—but he began again. Her face hardened.
To call tending to the wounded foolish—after she had spent the night nursing them—was deeply insulting.
But instead of showing anger, she smiled sweetly and replied in a voice soft as silk, yet barbed beneath.
“If it’s not a foolish thing, then… would you give me permission?”
