Chapter 5 …
Compassion
Impossible.
A part of the collar of his robe had been cut off.
Wanghae, who had been examining his clothing with a grave expression, suddenly burst out laughing.
“Ha ha ha ha.”
“Y-Your Majesty…?”
Though the crime was such that even death could not atone for someone daring to aim at the ruler’s neck, the usually stern king’s hearty laughter left Court Minister Kim utterly bewildered.
“So it wasn’t just empty boasting, then.”
“If Your Majesty could describe what the person looks like, I could immediately issue a warrant for their capture.”
“There’s no need.”
“…Eh? Th-there’s… no need?”
“If I intended to kill them, I would have done so long ago.”
The cut on his collar was extremely close to the carotid artery—just a little deeper, and death would have been instant.
Wanghae had evaded her sword repeatedly, but there was one moment he had briefly let his guard down. It was when she pressed closely to his side. As he turned away, her hair, tied high, fluttered in the wind, releasing a subtle, sweet fragrance that reached his nose. Instinctively, Wanghae grabbed her by the waist. That fleeting moment was enough for her to cut his collar.
“However!”
Ignoring the pacing and visibly shocked Kim, Wanghae changed the subject.
“Other matters.”
The courtier who was fastening Wanghae’s belt froze, then stammered in a quiet voice:
“W-Wangbi (Queen) has requested an audience…”
Though others addressed Hwaryeon, the king’s legitimate wife and daughter of the Duke, as “Your Majesty, the Queen,” Wang himself always referred to her as Gungju (宫主, “First Queen”). Seemingly deliberately.
It wasn’t disrespectful, but everyone knew that by using her title instead of her official rank, the king kept a certain distance. For Kim, this meant a torturous experience whenever he had to report matters regarding the Queen.
“She asked to speak upon returning to the palace.”
“Tell her I have not returned yet. Or perhaps say I’m dead; she might welcome that more.”
Suppressing a sigh, Kim inwardly resigned himself.
The king tried to avoid her, the Queen tried desperately to see him, and the palace staff always ended up in an awkward position.
Kim quickly stopped the king from leaving.
“Y-Your Majesty!”
“If you come with anything other than a proper report, I’ll confine you to the cold palace.”
“Earlier, you were asked to select a date for the wedding. You have yet to reply.”
Kim reported in unusually brisk tones, focusing on merely reporting rather than facing the king’s wrath.
“I already said I wouldn’t agree to that marriage. After the Third Aunt, now they want me to marry the Fourth Aunt? Unless the Duke has truly lost his mind…”
Wanghae, pacing angrily, suddenly stopped.
“But this Fourth Aunt—who is she? I’ve neither seen nor heard of her before.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. She is said to be a newly adopted daughter.”
“An adopted daughter?”
So now he wants to bring in adopted daughters?
The Duke’s scheme was far too obvious. Even if he adopted three thousand daughters, he would not succeed in forcing Wanghae’s compliance. Not even one. Never.
“Have you arrived, Your Majesty?”
The Duke, Yi Jagyeom, waiting in the main hall, stood to greet Wanghae.
Without giving him a glance, Wanghae leisurely walked toward the throne.
Protocol demanded that ministers bow until the king was seated. For the already stooped Duke, this brief time was torturous.
Once Wanghae sat, Yi Jagyeom finally suppressed a groan and took his seat.
“Such urgent matters that you personally came, Duke?”
Yi Jagyeom usually sent letters or messengers for routine matters.
“Haha. Perhaps you felt neglected by your maternal grandfather’s strictness all this time?”
The Duke sometimes openly emphasized his relation as the king’s maternal grandfather. Though he should be called Gukgu (king’s father-in-law), being the father of a queen who failed to produce an heir seemed uncomfortable even to him.
“I was not neglected. I merely worried about your health during the long journey.”
“You needn’t worry. Though I may seem frail, the monks say I will easily live past eighty. To think I can uphold the late king’s intentions—surely all of this is Buddha’s grace.”
Yi Jagyeom tried to appear kindly, but Wanghae heard nothing but the determination to never relinquish the throne. The grandfather’s greed increasingly irritated him.
When the king was young and inexperienced, Yi Jagyeom and his faction often imposed their will over royal opinion.
Even regarding the Jin Kingdom, Wanghae had tried to carry on his predecessor’s plan to expel the Jurchens from Goryeo lands. Yet they feigned peace, returned the Nine Northeastern Fortresses that Yun Gwan had secured, and paid tribute. Then, Yi Jagyeom was regent on Wanghae’s behalf, but now Wanghae was a full-fledged king.
“I heard you have matters to discuss. It seems you require quite a number of carriages for hosting the Jin emissaries?”
“Do not trouble yourself, Your Majesty. The court will handle it diligently.”
Though polite, the meaning was clear: do not interfere.
Wanghae’s brow furrowed slightly. Had he not seen it himself, he might have overlooked it, but today he saw clearly the Duke’s exploitation and oppression of the people.
“I hope it proceeds without burdening the people. Their labor—”
“Do not trouble yourself.”
The Duke cut him off, continuing:
“More importantly is the succession. Have you selected the wedding dates sent by the Royal Astronomy Office?”
“I cannot choose; both dates are unfavorable.”
In other words, he disliked both.
“Then may I choose?”
“Have you consulted the Gungju first?”
Perfect excuse. Wanghae, having grown up in the Duke’s household alongside the Gungju, knew her temperament. She would not let such an important matter pass unnoticed.
“No need to consult her—”
Thud.
The hall doors slammed open.
A woman in a purple silk robe, reminiscent of peonies, strode toward the throne.
“Gungju, what brings you here?”
This was truly welcome.
“I have a matter of great urgency for Your Majesty.”
The Gungju restrained her clearly angry expression and reported.
Before she could even continue, Yi Jagyeom shouted at the eunuchs:
“What are you doing? She requested a private audience!”
The Gungju whirled, confronting her father.
“You cannot treat me like this, Father.”
“How dare you act thus in front of Your Majesty!”
“Do not worry, Your Majesty. Speak your request, Gungju.”
For today, whatever she asked, he would listen.
At the king’s lax consent, the eunuchs stepped back.
“Has it been one year since I became queen, or two? And now, you wish to bring in another queen? My own sister? I have a sister—!”
“Gungju.”
At her father’s warning tone, she quickly fell silent.
Wanghae watched the scuffle between father and daughter with amusement, his chin resting on his hand.
“You should have consulted me first.”
“Marrying a queen is a matter of state.”
“And of the inner palace.”
“Gungju, leave now.”
“I cannot allow this marriage. Bring a daughter from another family instead!”
“Ehwaran! As your father, this is an order! Will you not step back immediately?”
“My father… you cannot treat me this way.”
The Duke’s thunderous anger made the Gungju turn away, eyes brimming with tears.
Wanghae found the situation entertaining, though the departing figure of the Gungju, usually unnoticed by him, stirred sympathy.
“I thought this had been settled with the Gungju. Apparently not.”
“Do not mind. She was misled. For a queen, nothing is more important than the succession.”
The Duke openly clicked his tongue, disappointed in his own daughter.
“It is my fault.”
The more Wanghae faced the feared Duke, the more he realized he could speak calmly even when his heart disagreed.
“But… I did not know the Duke had a Fourth Daughter.”
“She was adopted long ago.”
He presented a paper listing two potential wedding dates, with the birth details of both Wanghae and the intended bride side by side.
Wanghae, only half-glancing, suddenly fixated on the name of the bride:
Yi Seoryeon
“…!”
