Chapter 59
A Deserved Reward
“Your Majesty, forgive my impudence, but Lady Dan is… different from the others.”
“How so? Speak.”
“First of all, she is a woman, not a man. The greatest virtue a woman can possess is to serve her husband and care for her household. Yet, she defied propriety by following her husband to the battlefield.”
When Danseol, as a royal concubine, followed Gyeom into war, most of the ministers had thought her behavior improper. Moreover, she was no longer a commoner — she was now a member of the imperial household.
For someone of the imperial family, and a low-ranking concubine at that, such conduct was entirely inappropriate.
To promote her rank instead of censuring her was, in the ministers’ eyes, intolerable.
“Furthermore,” continued the official smoothly, “the merits of others are supported by clear evidence. But in Lady Dan’s case, the proof is lacking. Even identifying the cause of the epidemic was done with the cooperation of other physicians. Can we truly say that achievement belongs solely to her?”
At his eloquent reasoning, many ministers nodded in agreement. Encouraged by their reaction, the man spoke again.
“We all understand Your Majesty’s affection for Lady Dan, but if such private feelings are brought into public affairs, discontent will surely arise.”
“Is that what the rest of you think as well?”
“Please show understanding, Your Majesty!”
At Gyeom’s question, nearly all the ministers who had spoken earlier prostrated themselves to the floor, showing a united front — their clear intent was to prevent Danseol’s promotion at any cost.
Gyeom’s lips twisted into a faint sneer.
“So, the Empress’s lapdogs are quite numerous.”
Every man bowing on the floor was affiliated with the Cheon clan — the family of Empress Cheon Ihwa.
It disgusted him to see them disguise self-serving politics as loyalty to law and order.
“So, if not for the three reasons you’ve stated, there would be no problem in promoting Danseol’s rank — is that what I’m hearing?”
At Gyeom’s cold remark, the ministers exchanged uneasy glances but did not dare to argue.
Gyeom stepped past Danseol and slowly approached the group.
“Lady Dan did not abandon her virtue as a woman,” he said. “To turn one’s back on a husband risking his life on the battlefield would be a betrayal of virtue. Yet she, out of devotion, followed me willingly.”
“Indeed! The Lady has always served Your Majesty with utmost sincerity.”
“And is not the imperial household itself the heart of Hwangseon? Within, she strengthened me — without, she inspired the soldiers, the people of this empire. Has she not fulfilled every virtue you so loudly speak of?”
Those who had accompanied Gyeom on the Yuldoguk campaign raised their voices in agreement, defending Danseol. The ministers’ faces darkened.
“But there is still no irrefutable proof of her personal merit,” one insisted.
“Why do you believe there isn’t?”
At Gyeom’s gesture, Tae-yeom stepped forward from behind, handing him a rolled scroll.
“This,” Gyeom said, “was submitted to me by Han Judan, Chief Physician of the Royal Medical Bureau, when he resigned his post. Inside are detailed accounts of Lady Dan’s contributions.”
“But, Your Majesty,” a minister began hesitantly, “is the word of one man truly enough—”
“If the testimony of the Chief Physician and the entire Royal Medical Bureau is not enough,” Tae Seorang interjected coolly, “we can summon the soldiers who were present at the scene as witnesses.”
With the Bureau physicians stepping forward, the ministers fell silent — though their expressions showed no signs of relenting.
“One reason remains,” Gyeom said flatly. “What was it?”
“That Your Majesty should not let personal feelings influence public matters… regarding Lady Dan,” Tae Seorang answered carefully, bowing low.
“I see,” Gyeom murmured. “That is hardly a problem. After all, everyone kneeling before me feeds not from the country’s coffers, but from the Empress’s.”
“Wh-what are you implying, Your Majesty—”
“The Empress, a mere woman, is allowed to parade her allies so openly — yet I, the Emperor, cannot raise up a woman who is neither an official nor a man, but one who has truly served?”
The bluntness of his tone was scorching. None dared lift their heads.
“How dangerous could a powerless concubine, a woman of no rank and low birth, possibly be?” Gyeom’s voice turned colder, sharper. “Even now, she trembles before your words. Tell me, is that the woman you fear?”
No one answered.
And no one dared.
After all, with General Cheon Taesu awaiting punishment as a criminal, any open defiance now might spell their ruin as well.
When silence thickened in the grand hall, Gyeom turned away and returned to stand before Danseol.
“Lady Danseol,” he said, “raise your head.”
Slowly, she lifted her gaze. The flicker of lamplight reflected off the golden dragon robe he wore, making him appear to shine.
“For risking her life and using her medical skill in loyal service to me and to the Hwangseon Empire,” Gyeom declared, “I, Lee Gyeom, recognize Lady Danseol’s righteousness and hereby elevate her to the rank of Righteous Consort (義嬪).”
Usually, the title Consort Yi (懿嬪) used the character for “grace” or “virtue,” but Gyeom deliberately chose 義 — “righteousness” — a word rarely bestowed, to honor her moral courage.
“I am endlessly grateful for Your Majesty’s grace,” Danseol said, bowing deeply.
She didn’t know his true intent in naming her a consort, but there was no reason to refuse. A higher rank would provide protection — and power to gather her own allies.
As she bent in salute, a large, calloused hand came into view.
When she looked up, she met Gyeom’s composed, striking face.
“Now,” he said softly, “let’s go enjoy the banquet.”
At his slight nod toward his hand, Danseol hesitated, then reached out. Gyeom grasped her hand firmly, pulling her to her feet.
The moment she rose, the court musicians struck up a lively tune.
“Your Majesty.”
Still holding his hand, Danseol spoke quietly as they walked.
“Why… did you grant me this title?”
Her fingers tightened around her skirt.
He must be using me again, she thought bitterly.
Gyeom’s true aim was to provoke the Empress — to make Cheon Ihwa burn with jealousy and draw her closer.
So why was she asking him this? Even Danseol didn’t know. Perhaps it was to steel herself, to remind her softening heart of what kind of man he truly was.
“I merely rewarded a person according to her merits,” he said.
The simple answer shattered her expectations.
He had faced down every minister in the court — for her, a mere concubine.
“Truly… is that all?”
“Yes.”
Gyeom frowned slightly at the faint tremor in her voice, displeased that she seemed to doubt his sincerity.
“Come,” he said curtly. “The food will grow cold.”
Still holding her hand, he turned and strode ahead.
Danseol’s eyelashes trembled as she gazed at his broad back.
The night was cold, her body chilled — yet the hand he held was warm.
When the banquet began in earnest, the tension seemed to dissolve as if nothing had happened. Though there had been moments of political friction, no one was foolish enough to show dissatisfaction at a national celebration.
Danseol sat beside the Grand Empress Dowager, enjoying rare delicacies with a serene face — or at least, she tried to. Her body wouldn’t cooperate.
“Are you unwell, child? You’ve hardly eaten a bite.”
“I am eating well, Your Majesty.”
But her plate said otherwise — most of the food remained untouched.
She must have overexerted herself. The night air had chilled her, and heat now rose to her face while her stomach churned.
Just a little longer, she told herself.
She couldn’t leave early — not after being publicly granted the title of Righteous Consort despite all opposition. If she left too soon, it would only make her appear weak and unfit in the eyes of those already doubting her.
At the very least, she had to last until the Emperor himself departed.
So she forced herself to take small bites of easily digested dishes, careful not to draw attention.
But as the night deepened and the air grew colder, her condition worsened.
“It seems His Majesty is preparing to leave,” someone whispered.
Just as her body began trembling uncontrollably, the Grand Empress Dowager spoke, sounding pleased. Indeed, Gyeom was rising from his seat.
“There is still wine and food aplenty,” he said. “Those who wish to stay, stay and enjoy yourselves.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
When Gyeom left the pavilion, Danseol quietly began to rise as well.
“Your Majesty,” she said softly to the Grand Empress Dowager, “if you’ll excuse me, I shall take my leave.”
“Of course, child. You must be tired — go and rest.”
Bowing respectfully, Danseol stood — and the world went dark.
Her vision swam, but she clenched her jaw, bowed again, and managed to walk out of the banquet hall with measured steps.
Eunso followed close behind, silent as a shadow.
They had just reached a secluded path when—
“Milady!”
Danseol staggered — and collapsed.
