Episode 2
At the Empress Dowager’s command, Danseol was soon surrounded by court maids, who began preparing her appearance with practiced hands.
“Hold still.”
The sharp command fell coldly from above her crown, and Danseol froze, unable to even wet her parched lips. Despite the icy voice, the hands brushing her face were gentle and meticulous.
“Stand and put on your robes.”
At the low order, Danseol rose, and two maids approached her with a red silk robe, embroidered in exquisite patterns along the cuffs and collar, draping it carefully over her shoulders.
“Would it be possible… to adorn my hair with this pin?”
As the maids’ hands reached for her hair, Danseol retrieved a gold hairpin from her bosom and offered it with both hands.
“Personal belongings are not permitted beyond this point.”
No one allowed into the Emperor’s chambers could bring any personal items with them—for reasons of safety and security.
“This… this was my late mother’s. I beg you, just for tonight, allow me to keep it close.”
“What cannot be done, still cannot be done…”
“If you’re concerned, please inspect it for yourself.”
The pitiful sincerity in her eyes made the maid hesitate before taking the pin. It bore a butterfly motif, a thin golden thread dangling beneath it. Nothing about it suggested danger or threat.
“…Only this pin, then. All other personal items must be left behind.”
“Thank you.”
As the final touch was placed—fixing the pin in her hair—the hands dressing her fell away. Danseol quietly let out a breath of relief.
If one were to pull on the inner sheath of the pin, a finely sharpened blade would emerge.
This was not her mother’s keepsake. It was a concealed weapon.
Tonight, Danseol intended to drive it into the Emperor’s carotid artery—killing the man who had destroyed her homeland and taken her parents’ lives.
“All is ready.”
With a soft flutter, her eyelids opened. Beneath the long lashes shone pale eyes, reflecting the light of the moon.
Danseol gazed into the polished mirror before her.
Her brows arched like willow branches, her lashes curling like the edges of a temple’s roof. The pale moonlight lent a porcelain glow to her skin, and her lips, tinged with red, bloomed like a single plum blossom on snow.
A crimson silk robe cascaded from her slender neck, adorned like that of a noble doe.
“She’s a sight to behold.”
“Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager!”
The heavy voice announced her arrival, and all in the room immediately bowed low.
“So finely adorned, she could rival any famed beauty of the realm.”
With only a few measured steps, the Empress Dowager stood before her, lifting Danseol’s chin to meet her penetrating gaze.
“Tonight, the one you serve is a man whose name alone dares not be spoken lightly.”
She released Danseol’s chin and turned away, hands clasped behind her back. As Danseol lowered her head and listened, the weight in her jaw returned. Images of her people dying, of her loved ones sacrificing themselves, flickered across her mind.
“His Majesty and the Queen Consort were executed before the eyes of the people.”
The words that had once delivered the news of her parents’ death echoed in her head, and her breath trembled. Her body shook with suppressed rage. But Danseol steadied herself with a deep breath, forcing her emotions to settle.
“Tonight, there must be no mistakes.”
“…Yes, Your Majesty.”
This night held more meaning for Danseol than anyone could imagine.
Tonight, she would kill the Emperor. She would avenge Seolhwa and her wrongfully slain parents.
—
“You are to wait here.”
Danseol frowned at the red fabric and vibrant decorations adorning the chamber. She had heard that the wedding chambers of Hwangseon were traditionally decorated in red.
As she looked around, her gaze fell on the lavish table set with liquor.
He must first be intoxicated.
There was no way she could overpower him with force. She needed him vulnerable. Once the Emperor was drunk and off-guard, she would strike—with the golden hairpin.
“Rise and pay your respects.”
A voice signaled the arrival of the Emperor.
Danseol slowly stood.
Thud. Thud.
Each heavy footstep echoed in the chamber, and Danseol swallowed dryly as she bowed deeply. Standing only a few steps away was Emperor Yi Gyeom of Hwangseon.
The man who had killed her parents. The one who had reduced her homeland to ashes.
To Danseol, Yi Gyeom was no glorious sovereign to admire—he was her enemy, her target for vengeance.
Click.
Once he entered fully, the doors behind him slid shut.
Now alone with him, Danseol’s heart began to pound violently. Fear and fury twisted together in her chest, nearly suffocating her.
Still bowing, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stay calm.
“I pay my respects to His Majesty.”
“…Breathtaking.”
The low, chilling voice made her slowly rise from her bow. Her gaze naturally followed the hem of his robe, exquisitely embroidered in gold thread.
Upward—from his powerful feet to broad shoulders built through countless battles. Even layered in silk, the strength of his body could not be hidden.
Danseol swallowed hard and raised her head further, eyes catching the thick neck, the prominent Adam’s apple…
And then—the face of the Emperor of Hwangseon.
So this is Yi Gyeom…
To her surprise, he was young. And strikingly handsome.
His gaze, though cold, held a sharp clarity. His thick brows, proud forehead, and firm jawline spoke of an unyielding, relentless character.
“You’re bold.”
“…I beg your pardon.”
Danseol quickly lowered her head at his remark.
“This is no place for someone like you.”
Yi Gyeom stepped closer, taking her chin in his hand.
His obsidian gaze bore down on her, overwhelming in its presence. She felt pinned in place—paralyzed under his forceful aura.
“I merely follow the orders of Her Majesty, the Empress Dowager.”
“That was the meaning of her order?”
A wry smirk curved Yi Gyeom’s lips.
“She claimed you’d surely please me. That even if I turned you away, I should at least look upon your face.”
Now he understood why the Empress Dowager was so insistent.
Standing before him now, Danseol was indeed a beauty capable of turning heads in any kingdom.
Yet it wasn’t her face that caught his attention.
It was the subtle defiance beneath her gentle facade—the way she spoke with careful boldness.
“May I be permitted to serve you a drink, Your Majesty?”
There it was again.
“Drink, you say? Are you trying to charm me like the courtesans in the pleasure halls?”
His mocking tone cracked Danseol’s calm expression for the first time. Yi Gyeom found an odd thrill in that reaction.
For all her grace and serenity, she was no different from the others—no, perhaps her elegance made her all the more cunning.
“What a waste of time.”
He turned coldly away.
But then—
“Serving wine is not always about seduction.”
The clear, steady voice stopped him mid-step.
“It is a gesture of respect, and reverence for one’s sovereign. That is all I intended when I asked to serve Your Majesty a drink—an expression of honor toward the sun of this nation.”
“…How amusing.”
Never had he expected such words from a mere concubine offered as his bedmate.
All the women Yi Gyeom had known fell into one of two types—those who trembled in fear, or those who vied for his favor with sweet flattery.
This one, however, looked him in the eye and spoke with unwavering honesty.
That, in itself, was… intriguing.
“To think you’d dare teach me. Very well—let us see your idea of an offering.”
He took a seat at the table.
Danseol approached gracefully and began pouring the wine in silence. Every movement of hers radiated refinement and composure.
She doesn’t seem like a noble… so how does she carry herself like one?
Yi Gyeom studied her as he emptied the cup.
Most women brought from fallen nations were of humble birth. Yet even in the face of imperial majesty, this one remained unshaken.
There was something curiously out of place about her.
“You seem quite learned.”
“I am not, Your Majesty. I merely absorbed what little I could overhear from my father’s studies.”
“And where are your parents now?”
“They perished during the war.”
“So you must resent me.”
It was no secret—those gifted to him as consorts from conquered lands were stripped of all they’d ever known. Despite the title of “concubine,” they were slaves in truth.
To be chosen to serve the Emperor, as Danseol had been, was rare indeed.
“I am only grateful for the opportunity that has been given to me.”
A faint, twisted smile appeared on Yi Gyeom’s face.
“Grateful, are you…”
A cold scoff laced his next words.
“You lie… without even flinching.”
Go forth with the power of spite, Danseol! Let it fuel your not-like-the-others charm!