Chapter 5: The King of Baekya

“A vulgar scent.”

Ahnok had been deeply shocked when he first heard those words. Because Chusan was a Pyeongin who could not perceive pheromones, no one had ever told him what his scent was like. To hear it described as “vulgar” was a profound blow.

After that, Ahnok had stayed at the King’s residence for several days, practicing relentlessly. He worked tirelessly to hide that supposedly vulgar scent.

For a long time, he believed the reason Yeo Jae Won had turned away on their wedding night—without even lifting the veil or speaking a kind word—was because his scent was repulsive.

It likely wasn’t entirely false. Yeo Jae Won was a man who despised Eumins who let their pheromones leak out, regardless of the quality of the scent.

However, Seol Ham Hyeon’s words remained a deep scar, and as a result, Ahnok had become excessively skilled at sealing his scent away so that no one could detect it.

“Lift your head.”

“This lowly one dares to offer greetings to the King of Baekya.”

In his previous life, Seol Ham Hyeon had scolded him for not knowing how to hide his scent and kicked him out immediately. Thus, Ahnok had no way to predict what conversation would follow.

He unconsciously gripped the fabric of his clothes. He was tense.

Seol Ham Hyeon scrutinized Ahnok for a long time. The boy, with a frame so thin he looked as if he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in his life, had eyes filled with moisture. They were eyes that looked exactly like the person Seol Ham Hyeon had once held most deeply in his heart.

Pushing aside his sentimentality, Seol Ham Hyeon noticed Ahnok’s cheek, which was swollen enough to be seen from a distance, and clicked his tongue.

“Dear me, how did your face get so ruined?”

When these completely unexpected words left the King’s lips, Ahnok couldn’t help but be flustered. His pupils trembled as if caught in an uncontrollable gale.

He felt a gaze land on his cheek. Ahnok’s eyes shifted slightly to the side. Seol Ga Hyo, who stood there with an expressionless face, opened his mouth as if to confess that he was the one who caused the injury.

“Royal Father, actually—”

“I fell.”

Seol Ga Hyo had started speaking first, but because his voice overlapped with Ahnok’s, neither sentence was conveyed clearly.

Confused by the jumbled voices, Seol Ham Hyeon knit his thick brows and asked again.

“What did you say?”

Seol Ga Hyo turned his head completely to stare at Ahnok. Ahnok felt the gaze, but he kept his head slightly lowered. Unlike his previous urgent tone, he repeated his answer in a small, explanatory voice.

“It is… after the Elder’s funeral, I misstepped on the mountain path and fell.”

He couldn’t say that he had climbed to the edge of a cliff to run away, only to fail at dying because he lacked the courage to jump. It wasn’t that he wanted to protect Seol Ga Hyo; rather, Ahnok simply didn’t want his own cowardly and pathetic reality to be exposed.

“Tsk. You are to be the primary consort of the Prince of Myeong; how can you have a face in that state?”

Satisfied by the plausible excuse, Seol Ham Hyeon did not press further. Only Seol Ga Hyo continued to stare at Ahnok with eyes that were almost murderous. He looked as if he couldn’t comprehend why Ahnok had covered for him. Ahnok thoroughly ignored that gaze.

“You have lived with only a name, without a surname.”

“…That is correct, Your Majesty.”

“From this day forward, you are a member of the Seol family. If anyone asks your name, answer that you are Seol Ahnok.”

Despite knowing it was where Seol Ga Hyo had struck him, Ahnok bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. His eyebrows furrowed at the pain, and he pressed his hands firmly against the floor. His fingertips turned white, and the blood that had stopped began to seep again, staining his mouth crimson.

Seol Ahnok.

To hide his derision, Ahnok followed the trail of physical pain, exerting every ounce of effort not to let his lips twist into a sneer.

Even though Seol Ham Hyeon spoke those words, Ahnok had never once been truly recognized as a member of the Seol family. In fact, he shouldn’t have expected any warmth at all.

Therefore, Ahnok had no intention of denying that he had stood by and watched the fall of the Seol family and the transformation of Baekya-bu into a bloody ruin.

He knew the tragedy would repeat. If he told them now that sending him to the capital might avoid immediate pressure from the Imperial Family but wouldn’t stop them from being dragged into political strife—would anything change?

‘Why should I go that far?’

The people before him had neglected him his entire life, used him as a tool when necessary, and mocked and toyed with him at every opportunity. Should he speak up for their lives? Should he save them?

But no one deserves to die. Who on earth decides who should live and who should die, and by what standard?

His mind tilted back and forth as if weighed down by a heavy pendulum. A headache began to tighten around his temples.

He had merely come back in time. What is meant to happen will happen. He could not interfere with everything. He shouldn’t.

…He was powerless.

He felt as though he would collapse under the weight of his own exhaustion if he didn’t hold on with everything he had.

“Ahnok, Royal Father has granted you a surname. Why are you standing there without giving thanks?”

Grit his teeth against the headache, Ahnok finally lifted his damp eyes.

“To grant a royal surname to a lowly bastard… the grace is so immense I am at a loss for words, Your Majesty.”

“Indeed. As Seol Ahnok, you shall become the primary consort of the Prince of Myeong. Do you understand?”

Ahnok’s fingertips turned white against the floor once more. Though he still looked haggard, the boy—as fragile and beautiful as a single lotus flower—offered a smile.

“…Yes.”

The primary consort of the Prince of Myeong. The rightful and legitimate place beside Yeo Jae Won. A hellish swamp that keeps pulling him back, even across time.

Ahnok vowed that, by whatever means necessary, he would escape that position.

Following his broad shoulders and straight arms, the sleeves of a dark purple dallyeong (official robe) flowed downward. Though the robe was not ornately embroidered, the patterns woven into the fabric itself revealed themselves subtly in the light, adding an air of nobility.

The hands of the Sangbok (court ladies in charge of clothing), who had lived in the palace for a long time, could not be careless when handling a Prince’s official attire. Two court ladies from the residence refined the fit with quiet, delicate movements.

Lady Lee, who had been waiting a step away for their busy hands to finish, approached while holding a gold waist belt. The court ladies adjusted the robes one last time and stepped aside.

This was not the attire of an ordinary official, but the ceremonial robes of a Prince of the blood. Specifically, the robes of the Third Prince—the only remaining legitimate prince born to the late Empress, who had just returned after completing the mourning period for the Crown Prince who died three years ago. The attire of the Prince of Myeong, Yeo Jae Won.

These were the clothes he would wear to present himself before the Emperor and the officials in the court he was returning to after a long absence. Because they could not be neglected, Lady Lee had prepared these robes with every ounce of passion she had honed since her days in the sewing department.

And today, as the clothes finally met the light, they draped perfectly over Yeo Jae Won’s body, as if recognizing their master.

He was naturally large-boned and tall, with a handsome face that was unrivaled in the capital or throughout the empire. Even in a simple official robe, his presence was majestic.

“Assisting with Your Highness’s preparation to enter the palace feels like a dream,” Eunuch Seok said, his voice slightly choked with emotion as he realized his master had finally returned to the capital.

Yeo Jae Won, who had been receiving service with his eyes closed, slowly opened them. Without turning his head, he shifted his gaze toward Eunuch Seok and let out a short, dismissive snort.

It was an attitude beyond mere coldness—it was arrogant and haughty. Yet, it was the inherent nobility that only one born as a legitimate prince, wanting for nothing, could possess.

“What time is it?”

“It is one gak past Myojeong (6:15 AM), Your Highness.”

In truth, the one who felt as though he were in a dream was Yeo Jae Won himself.

The three-year mourning period had ended four months ago.

At the beginning of the twelfth lunar month last year, as soon as he returned from mourning the Crown Prince, the Emperor had quickly and simply finished Yeo Jae Won’s coming-of-age ceremony. Since then, Yeo Jae Won had lived almost in seclusion at his residence, using recuperation as an excuse not to return to the court.

With no distinct routine or hobbies, those four months had passed like a dream. But there was a different kind of haze surrounding him now.