Chapter 33 …
The king could not hide his surprise at Lord Ikhyeon’s confession. It was all the more so because he had already planned to send Hanhwak to Hamgildo by the end of the year.
He needed time to decide whether to use him to block the Jurchens or to strengthen the bond with the royal family and maintain smooth relations with the Ming dynasty.
“Your Majesty, do you have something on your mind?”
Hong-ah, who had accompanied the king to the main hall for breakfast, asked innocently. The king looked at his granddaughter with eyes so transparent it seemed he could see through anything. Hong-ah, undeterred, gave a small, knowing smile.
“So you’ve heard that Lord Ikhyeon and your Ye-dong have taken a liking to each other, haven’t you?”
“It wasn’t something I wished for,” Hong-ah replied.
“I see. That figures.”
“I’ve learned this time that people’s hearts do not go as one wishes.”
Even with Hong-ah’s words, the king could not come to an easy decision.
He had held many discussions with Lord Ikhyeon’s mother, Lady Kim, who had recently been elevated to noblewoman, and with the queen. The matter had even reached the court, and the crown prince had inquired of Hong-ah about the situation. It was not something simple.
If it had been with Lord Suchun, it would have been easier. Hong-ah muttered to herself, but it was already in the past, and human hearts could not be forced.
Access to the palace for Lee-san had been forbidden, and Lord Ikhyeon was confined to his quarters. Even after receiving a scolding letter full of curses from Lord Gyeyang, he worried about something else entirely.
“What if I get married to another?”
Hong-ah, who occasionally visited Suwanjae, was troubled by Lord Ikhyeon being stuck in his room, crying.
‘I’ll remember every day he cries and make sure to tease him later.’
Still, there was nothing to be done. In the end, people moved according to their hearts.
Hong-ah visited the king every day, doing her best to persuade him.
“I understand your concern about Hanhwak’s power being concentrated, Your Majesty. But seeing Uncle in such distress, my heart is also troubled.”
“Would it make me feel good, do you think?”
“Your Majesty, what has happened has already happened. Perhaps granting mercy and allowing it, then later instructing that Hanhwak’s children not marry other royal family members, might be a way to maintain caution?”
It was her own plan to kill two birds with one stone. After all, the one she had in mind, Hanchiwon, was a nephew, not a direct descendant, so there was no risk.
Meanwhile, Lord Suchun’s marriage took place first. As history recorded, he welcomed Lady Yeongcheon and walked through the palace with the shy expression of a new husband.
Though the wedding had been held, he was still young and had no prepared chamber, so there was still time before leaving the palace.
“Lord Ikhyeon shall take Hanhwak’s fifth daughter as his wife. Prepare accordingly.”
That spring, the king finally recognized the relationship between Lord Ikhyeon and Lee-san, after a secret agreement was made with Hanhwak that no more marriage proposals would be pursued.
It was the result of Lord Ikhyeon being half-heartedly depressed and Lee-san even threatening to become a nun.
The sweltering summer had returned. The maids were busy fanning Hong-ah and Hong-yeon without pause.
‘It’s already unbearably hot this early in summer.’
Every summer, Hong-ah longed for her past life. College life had been tough, but at least she had air conditioning. Even with limited means at home, she could always turn on a fan daily.
The cool breeze she remembered from her past life could not even tickle the bridge of her nose now.
As she sighed and gazed out of the open window, she saw a season full of greenery.
“The baby’s name has been decided.”
When Hong-ah visited the charitable hall, her mother spoke excitedly.
“The king and crown prince carefully chose it.”
“But we don’t even know if it’s the heir or the monarch yet,” Hong-ah pouted. Whenever the baby was mentioned, her mood sank. Her mother’s growing belly meant their separation was near, and all Hong-ah could do was scold the palace doctors to wash their hands properly.
“They asked that it be a name suitable whether the baby is the heir or the monarch. They only hope for the child to grow safely without incident.”
Although the baby would be born as the heir, Hong-ah knew he would not live safely to adulthood. Her mood sank with unspoken discontent.
“Would you like to hear it?”
Her mother’s face was childlike, full of excitement.
‘Ah, this is really annoying.’
Since Hong-ah alone knew the outcome, she had to bear all the pain and anger alone. Reluctantly, she nodded.
“They decided to use the character ‘Hong’ (홍), like you and Hong-yeon, and add ‘Wi’ (위), meaning sunlight. So the name is Hongwi.”
Sunlight above. Now it made sense.
“Isn’t it a name fitting for a baby born in summer?”
“It is,” her mother agreed.
Moreover,
“If the baby is the heir, the king is like the sun, so the name also carries the meaning of becoming a wise ruler who spreads his renown widely.”
Of course, in her past life, Hongwi could not fulfill the name and died, but the meaning was clear.
“Yes, the name is beautiful. It suits both a monarch and the heir. I like it very much. I wish he would come into the world quickly. I want to call him Hongwi once.”
“Later, that will be enough,” her mother replied.
Expectant mothers often spoke mysteriously these days. Each time she touched her large belly while saying such things, Hong-ah felt uneasy.
Pretending not to care was the hardest part.
If her mother had even once said she didn’t want to have this baby, Hong-ah would have sought any way to quietly eliminate the child in the womb.
Even if that meant the heir of the royal family would not be born and Grand Prince Suyang would inherit the throne instead, Hong-ah wanted to protect her mother.
To Hong-ah, her mother in front of her was more important than the future king growing in the womb.
“Hong-ah, these days I have many thoughts,” her mother said, not fully able to understand her feelings.
“Perhaps I will not be able to see Hongwi grow up,” she continued.
“Mother!”
Hong-ah’s voice trembled. Each time her mother stirred her like this, the anxiety she had been trying to suppress surged. She felt guilt for not being able to save her mother.
“Who can measure fate, human or not?”
Her mother’s hazy words sounded as if she were already standing before the river of the afterlife.
“It would be best if I remain safe so that you, Hong-yeon, and Hongwi can be well looked after. I will try my best,” her mother said, patting Hong-ah’s head. At ten years old, Hong-ah was always mature, but sometimes she expressed her emotions like a child.
“Mother, please stay by my side for a long time,” Hong-ah said like a spell. Her mother always nodded with a smile. Recently, though, her words were more evasive, making Hong-ah painfully aware that their separation was approaching.
“Mother,” Hong-ah said, gathering courage. Impulsively, too.
She shared a story she had kept hidden, one that would not change the inevitable truth of her mother’s death.
“I had a dream. A very terrible nightmare.”
She described the future she knew through her dream: her mother dying after giving birth to the heir, the crown prince dying upon inheriting the throne, and Hongwi ascending the throne only to be killed by his uncle.
She could not recount every detail but sharing even part of the horrifying future eased some of the anger in her chest.
Her mother did not dismiss her child’s dream. Even when Hong-ah broke down in tears, her mother patiently listened.
“I had a dream too,” her mother said slowly after Hong-ah finished.
“It was a boy crying loudly in my arms. A newborn in my embrace, and a senior court lady brought a mirror. But my face looked like that of a grim reaper.”
Her mother spoke calmly, but her eyes shone.
“I have dreamed that many, many times. I tried to reconcile my mind, but still, I find myself attached to life.”
Her mother was only twenty-four. It was natural to cherish life at that age. Being the mother of three children, she knew its value.
Thinking that her mother would forever remain at twenty-four, never catching up to the age of her past life Hong-ah, filled her with tears.
“Hong-ah, since you’ve also had such dreams, you must prepare well,” she said, holding her daughter’s hands tightly.
“I know you are clever and will do well, but listen to your mother,” she added.
“Yes, Mother,” Hong-ah replied.
“You must accept a new concubine.”
Hong-ah’s carefully maintained smile completely froze. To accept a new concubine—it was something she had only dared to think about, never decided upon.
