Chapter 60
Where His Gaze Turned
“Your Grace! Are you all right?”
“I don’t think she’s hurt.”
It wasn’t Danseol who answered Eunso’s worried question—it was a low, composed male voice.
“…Your Majesty?”
The one holding the fainted Danseol in his arms was none other than I Gyeom himself. Eunso hurriedly bowed in respect.
But Gyeom didn’t even spare her a glance. His eyes were fixed solely on the woman in his arms.
“You didn’t look well earlier.”
Danseol wouldn’t have known, but throughout the entire banquet, Gyeom’s gaze had been on her.
There was no special meaning behind it.
“I was just bored.”
Even if it was a celebration for the nation, a banquet to Gyeom was nothing more than a long, tedious duty.
As emperor, he had no choice but to sit through it.
So it was only natural that his weary gaze had settled on Danseol.
After all, in this entire palace, she was the only person he didn’t have to be wary of.
If she ever heard him say that, she’d be furious—but it was true.
She had no ties to any political faction or power struggle. She was the only one before whom he could show his true self.
Unlike everyone else—where he had to measure every expression, every word, every breath.
Perhaps that was why his eyes kept drifting toward her.
And so, it was impossible for him not to notice her pallor.
“When did the Lady Consort begin feeling unwell?”
“She had a bit of a fever before the banquet, Your Majesty, but she said she was fine…”
Eunso’s voice trembled under his cold tone.
Failing to recognize her mistress’s condition was a grave fault for a servant.
“I should have been more careful…”
She silently scolded herself for believing Danseol’s words too easily.
“I see.”
Gyeom’s brow furrowed as he pressed his hand to Danseol’s forehead.
She was burning up.
Even in such a state, she hadn’t shown the slightest sign of illness.
“You’re always so fragile with others… yet you’re cruel to yourself.”
A bitter comment, but his expression was filled with concern.
She was a woman too stubborn for her own good.
“I’ll take her to Chuwol Hall. Bring the royal physician.”
He ordered Eunso curtly, then carried Danseol in his arms toward her residence.
* * *
“Hmm…”
“Is there a problem?”
When the royal physician, Tae Seorang, hesitated, Gyeom pressed him impatiently.
Seorang checked her pulse one more time before finally withdrawing his hand.
“She’s suffering from exhaustion and a fever, Your Majesty.”
Gyeom frowned.
“Then why is her fever this high? Are you sure of your diagnosis?”
“Her Grace has been overworking herself with the affairs of Yuldo.
The fatigue from travel hasn’t yet faded, and the cold night air made things worse.”
Even as the physician explained, Gyeom still looked unsatisfied.
Seorang, reading the emperor’s expression, spoke again cautiously.
“Your Majesty, Her Grace is a delicate person. You mustn’t compare her to yourself. If anything, it’s Your Majesty who’s abnormally healthy.”
“…What a useless body she has.”
Despite the grumbling tone, worry clearly clouded his face.
Seorang realized then—he had misjudged the emperor.
He had once thought Gyeom indifferent toward Danseol. But now he understood—
He simply didn’t know how to express it.
His feelings for her weren’t light at all.
“Please don’t worry, Your Majesty. I’ll see to her full recovery.”
“Worry? Don’t be ridiculous.”
Gyeom gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
He wasn’t worried, he told himself.
Just… bothered.
To call that strange irritation something as silly as affection—it was laughable.
“Expressing affection isn’t shameful, Your Majesty.”
But Tae Seorang’s next words nearly made him choke.
“…What?”
“You have feelings for the Lady Consort, do you not?”
Gyeom stared at him, dumbfounded.
Who loved whom?
Utter nonsense.
“Stop spouting foolishness and get out.”
“When you can’t help but look at her, when you find yourself lingering near her, when you worry over her pallor—what else could that be but love?”
“That’s…”
For some reason, Gyeom couldn’t quite argue back.
Because everything Seorang described—he was experiencing it all.
“Feelings shouldn’t be buried, Your Majesty. They should be shown.
Imagine how lonely Her Grace must feel.”
Having dropped that unsolicited advice, Tae Seorang began packing up his things.
“I’ll send medicine. Have her take it three times a day and rest well. She’ll recover soon.”
With that, the man bowed politely and left—after tearing through Gyeom’s composure completely.
“Perhaps I should strip him of his position again…”
The emperor muttered darkly.
Tae Seorang had always been irritating, but ever since becoming head physician, his nerve had worsened.
Still mumbling, Gyeom turned his head at the sound of movement behind him.
“What are you doing?”
It was Eunso, the new maid attending to Danseol.
“I thought to change Her Grace’s clothes. She must be uncomfortable.”
She held a clean white sleeping robe in her hands.
“Or… shall Your Majesty do it yourself?”
Her voice was small, cautious.
After all, everyone knew how wary the emperor was of being touched by anyone he didn’t trust completely.
Eunso worried that he didn’t trust her either.
Gyeom looked down at Danseol’s sleeping form—her pale face, her frail shoulders, the faint rise and fall of her chest.
“…That won’t be necessary.”
He turned his head abruptly and rose, stepping aside.
But something about his posture looked oddly… tense.
“When you’re done, let me know.”
He left the room with a voice clipped and hard enough to mask something else entirely.
* * *
“Your Majesty, the medicine is ready.”
“Leave it at the door.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
When the footsteps faded, Gyeom stood and brought the medicine inside.
The freshly brewed tonic was still steaming—too hot to drink.
He stirred it slowly with a silver spoon.
“The abnormal one isn’t me—it’s her.”
His gaze drifted toward Danseol, still unconscious on the bed.
It had been over an hour, and she hadn’t stirred once.
Such a weak body…
He clicked his tongue but continued stirring.
“She needs to wake soon so I can return to my chambers.”
He told himself he was staying by her side out of duty, not concern.
After all, she had overexerted herself because of him.
Still, her fever refused to drop.
He touched her forehead again—still burning.
Her normally pale cheeks were flushed red, and her breathing was shallow and uneven.
The sight unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
When she wakes, he decided, he would make her eat nothing but the best tonics and soups until she never troubled him again with such frailty.
Setting the bowl down, he carefully slipped an arm behind her back, lifting her upright.
She was shockingly light—like holding a feather.
He clicked his tongue again.
“Nothing about you is satisfactory,” he murmured.
Yet despite the words, his hands were careful, his movements gentle.
He scooped a spoonful of the medicine and tilted it to her lips.
“Cough… cough!”
She choked almost immediately, unable to swallow.
His frown deepened.
He tried again, but she sputtered the same way.
“Damn it.”
Frustration laced his voice as he threw the spoon aside.
He was angry at her frailty—and at himself, for being so helpless before it.
He could call a maid, but for some reason, he didn’t want to.
He didn’t want anyone else near her.
Not until she opened her eyes.
He couldn’t explain why, but he knew—if he left now, he wouldn’t find rest.
After a long pause, he lifted the bowl once more.
He took a mouthful of the hot medicine—then leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.
End of Chapter 60 — “Where His Gaze Turned.”
