Chapter 22
The Beginning of Surveillance
“Your Majesty, the Empress!”
When Yi-Ihwa stormed inside without warning, Danseol barely had time to fix her disheveled clothing. She collapsed flat against the floor in a desperate bow. Yi-Ihwa’s piercing eyes swept over the pale shoulders revealed through the loose garments, the tangled bedding where two people had clearly lain, and the scattered ornaments beside the bed.
That razor-sharp gaze cut across her like a blade, and Danseol pressed her head even lower against the cold floor.
Humiliation stung—having to display such a shameful sight before the palace maids—but survival came first. Pride could wait.
“Forgive the insolence of a lowly one who has failed to present herself properly.”
Her voice trembled. She dared not lift her head, barely able to breathe shallowly. The gathered court ladies, too, scarcely dared to make a sound.
The tension was unbearable. At any moment, Yi-Ihwa might slap her across the face or seize her hair—Danseol’s dry lips could not form a single word.
Step. Step.
In the heavy silence, soft footsteps echoed closer. Yi-Ihwa stopped right in front of her.
Gulp.
The sound of others swallowing their dry throats filled the air. Danseol, however, could not even do that.
And then, Yi-Ihwa bent forward and reached out her hand.
“Such discourtesy is hardly a flaw between us. Rise.”
Her voice was unexpectedly gentle, her touch upon Danseol’s shoulder light as a spring breeze. Yi-Ihwa herself lifted her up.
“…I am unworthy of such grace, Your Majesty.”
Danseol stood, bewildered, unable to conceal her confusion.
Yi-Ihwa’s lips curved into a smile.
“Unworthy? On the contrary. For carrying the heir who will succeed our royal line, I should be thanking you.”
Danseol’s pupils trembled violently.
‘What scheme is this now?’
Every time they met, Yi-Ihwa had always unleashed cruelty. Yet now she spoke with warmth. The sudden change was terrifying—surely it meant something worse was coming.
“So then, did you serve His Majesty well last night?”
The Empress asked brightly, her tone laced with sweetness. Danseol swallowed hard.
“…Yes, Your Majesty.”
“So it seems.”
Yi-Ihwa’s eyes drifted once more over the crumpled bedding and the pale skin peeking through loose clothing. Just for a fleeting instant, Danseol caught it—the glint of unhinged fury, enough to make her blood run cold. Yi-Ihwa still hated her enough to tear her apart.
“In early pregnancy, one must be cautious. His Majesty was too careless.”
Her gaze lingered meaningfully on Danseol’s flat belly. Danseol inhaled sharply, as though the words themselves pressed painfully against her womb.
“It moves me deeply that Your Majesty cares for my wellbeing.”
Yi-Ihwa’s lips curved further.
“As head of the Inner Court, I cannot merely speak of concern—I must act upon it. Therefore, I will place someone by your side to serve you faithfully until you bear the royal heir in safety.”
Danseol froze.
“Geon-ji.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
At the Empress’s call, a young woman stepped forward swiftly, bowing low.
“She is not a palace maid, but has attended me since childhood. You will find no shortcomings in her service.”
The revelation sent shock rippling through the chamber. Yi-Ihwa was offering one of her own personal servants from her family estate.
“To gift me one so dear to you… surely this cannot be.”
Danseol hastily prostrated herself, pleading to refuse.
But Yi-Ihwa’s tone was firm beneath its softness:
“Even as head of the Inner Court, I cannot assign palace maids as I please. Giving you my own servant is most proper. You must not decline.”
“From this day forward,” she added, “you will attend Lady Dan from the moment she rises until she sleeps, serving her in all things.”
“I will obey, Your Majesty.” Geon-ji replied crisply, determination gleaming in her eyes.
Yi-Ihwa smiled thinly.
“She has always been like my own limbs. I am certain she will be of great help.”
“…I am humbled by your grace, Your Majesty.”
Danseol lowered her head, biting her lips hard. A chill coiled deep within her chest.
The moment they left Chuwoljeon, Yi-Ihwa’s smile vanished.
“To the rear garden.”
The ladies-in-waiting shrank back, following in silence. Yi-Ihwa’s moods were perilous; none dared make a sound.
The rear garden was where she often went to quell her anger—or to let it erupt.
I can’t contain this fury.
Her hands clenched until her knuckles turned white. How could she endure the sight of Danseol—half-naked, disheveled, her face hollow with fatigue after a night in the Emperor’s bed?
That low-born wench…!
She had achieved what Yi-Ihwa, the Empress chosen by Heaven, had not. The thought made her fists shake.
“Your Majesty, enjoying a walk?”
A familiar voice broke her thoughts. Yi-Ihwa’s face stiffened instantly.
“Lord Grand General.”
Approaching with a kindly smile was Cheon Taesu, her father. He wore a deep-purple robe embroidered with a tiger upon the chest.
He had clearance to enter the rear garden at will. Yi-Ihwa dismissed her attendants, and father and daughter walked alone among the greening branches.
At last, Taesu spoke:
“I hear His Majesty spent last night at Chuwoljeon.”
“…Already the gossip has spread?”
“Indeed. More than that—they whisper the Emperor wanders because the Empress cannot keep him.”
His gaze was reproachful. Yi-Ihwa’s jaw tightened.
“Say it is all my fault, if you must.”
But her father’s tone was cutting.
“The Emperor is but a man. Is capturing one man’s heart truly so difficult?”
The words seared her pride. As always, her father blamed her—never the Emperor.
Yi-Ihwa’s voice turned cold.
“I have placed Geon-ji by that lowly woman’s side. Soon enough we shall see—whether her pregnancy is true, or a deception.”
If false, her belly would never swell, and her cycles would betray her. That could not be hidden.
Yi-hwa’s lips twisted into something cruel.
“If it is a lie… that woman will not escape death.”
Meanwhile, in Danseol’s chamber—
“Please try this, my lady. It was newly presented to the palace; they say it is exquisite.”
Geon-ji placed another dish before her, but Danseol laid down her spoon.
“I’ve had enough.”
“Why not eat more?”
“No appetite.”
Geon-ji frowned with concern.
“Then allow me to peel a kumquat. They say pregnant women crave them dearly.”
Her cheerful expression only made the weight on Danseol’s chest heavier. This constant shadow by her side, watching her every move, stifled her. She even had to take care to hide the plum blossom mark etched upon her skin.
Yet she forced herself to eat a segment of kumquat, hiding her unease.
‘I can’t go on like this. I need a plan.’
Just then—
“The royal physician has arrived.”
Tae Seorang entered, and an idea flashed through Danseol’s mind.
“I fear I have come too early,” he said, seeing the meal still laid out.
“Not at all. Please sit comfortably.”
Normally, she would have finished dining by now, but Geon-ji’s presence had delayed everything.
“Then, let me take your pulse.”
As he began, Geon-ji’s eyes gleamed sharply. She did not blink, as though determined to report every detail to Yi-Ihwa.
‘At this rate, I cannot even whisper a word to him.’
Danseol’s gaze fell upon the kumquats. An opportunity.
When Seorang finished, he advised gently,
“You must still eat, even without appetite.”
“Yes… though kumquats, at least, I can manage.”
She picked up another slice. Along with it, she slipped the peel into her sleeve. Pressing it with her nail, she carefully etched tiny words into the soft skin of the fruit. Every movement was painstakingly slow, hidden from Geon-ji’s eyes.
Then, with a smile, she offered one to Seorang.
“Thank you always, Physician. Please, take this.”
He extended his hand—and along with the golden fruit, Danseol passed him the secret message carved upon the peel.
