Chapter 16: The Handful of Grace

Even after seeing off Yeo Song and the Palace Mistress of Jeong-an, Yeo Jae-won did not return to his room. Instead, he walked slowly through the residence, lost in deep thought. He searched his mind for any connection between himself and Baekya-bu other than the current matter.

If there wasn’t one, the name Ahnok shouldn’t make him feel this… tormented.

“Ahnok…”

It felt strangely familiar. It felt as if he had pronounced that name to himself countless times before.

Yeo Jae-won stopped in his tracks, hands clasped behind his back, and shook his head as if to shake off the eerie déjà vu. But when he stepped through the side gate in front of him, he couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh.

“Ha…”

Before he knew it, he had entered the detached annex—the very place he had claimed he would never set foot in.

The thin rain had fallen for several days, but by the time Ahnok and his party passed through the East Gate of the capital, a bright, clear sky greeted them.

Beyond the East Gate stretched a grand boulevard where crowds gathered like clouds. Insisting on riding a horse through such a throng would only cause delays. Ahnok chose to dismount and walk.

It felt entirely different from seven years ago. Back then, he had been confined in a carriage for nearly fifteen days, leaving his body utterly exhausted. Having left his homeland for the first time, with nothing but fragments of information about his future spouse, his mental fatigue had reached its limit. He hadn’t had the energy to care about the scenery of the capital.

And once he became the Consort of Myeong, he never imagined he would be unable to come outside for so long, so he hadn’t felt the urgency to look then.

Only now could Ahnok truly take in the vibrant sights of the capital.

Since it was just past noon and the sun was at its peak, the streets were bustling. Merchants tidying their stalls approached passersby with easy-going banter, and groups of pedestrians ducked into noodle shops for a late lunch, chatting animatedly. It was a very ordinary scene.

The boulevard was wide enough to fit two carriages side-by-side even with stalls lined on both ends, and there was much to see. Distracted for a moment, Ahnok froze as a sudden impact struck his shoulder.

“Ugh…!”

The force was so strong that he instantly lost his balance and tumbled backward. However, the person who hit him must have tripped as well; Ahnok saw the back of a shabbily dressed figure sprawled out next to a long line of carts.

“Catch him! He stole something!”

A merchant arrived, panting for breath, and pointed an accusing finger at the fallen boy. The cart drivers exchanged looks and grabbed the boy before he could scramble up and flee.

“Are you alright, Master Ahnok?”

At Han-wol’s worried inquiry, Ahnok nodded and headed toward the boy the drivers were holding.

The boy flailed his arms, trying to keep whatever he was hiding in his shirt from being discovered even while his arms were pinned. When Ahnok approached, the boy’s eyes darted wildly. A fierce resentment flickered in his hollow eyes, as if he believed he wouldn’t have been caught if he hadn’t bumped into Ahnok.

“Let go! I said let go!”

Though he was tall, his voice—screaming in indignation—hadn’t fully broken yet; it was a strange mix of a high treble and a budding bass.

“You little brat, not even dry behind the ears yet, you—!”

The merchant, his hair streaked with white, spat out a string of curses even while leaning on his knees to catch his breath. Ahnok looked at the merchant, then at the boy.

The boy was already looking for a chance to bolt again. He seemed desperate. After gently restraining the merchant who was about to lung at the boy, Ahnok approached the young thief.

“What did you steal?”

Despite the gentle tone, the fierce resentment in the boy’s eyes did not subside. He kept his mouth shut tight, as if he had swallowed honey.

Moving closer, Ahnok could see the stolen item. It was dried seaweed.

From his tattered clothes that lacked even a patch to cover the holes, and his hollow eyes that clearly hadn’t seen a proper meal in days, Ahnok glimpsed the boy’s grueling poverty.

Not every poor person steals. Theft was undoubtedly a crime. However, Ahnok felt he should at least hear the boy’s circumstances, so he asked again.

“What did you steal, and why?”

“….”

The boy’s bloodless lips, so dry they were peeling, flickered for a moment.

“There’s no need to listen! We must take him to the magistrate immediately and—”

“…My sister gave birth.”

Many emotions were readable in the boy’s voice, which was thick with sorrow. There was the heartache of being unable to provide anything for his sister who had just delivered, and a prevailing sense of regret for the theft he had committed.

The merchant, who had been shouting in a rage, placed his hands on his hips and let out a long sigh.

Seaweed soup was known to be good for new mothers, but if the boy was in a position where he couldn’t even dig up wild roots to eat, getting seaweed would have been an impossible dream. He likely had nowhere to turn for help.

How must the world look to this boy? Does it look like a place that labels even a single moment of desire as a sin and seeks to condemn him?

Projecting his own past—which had been filled with pessimistic thoughts—onto the boy’s eyes, Ahnok turned to the merchant and pulled a coin purse from his robe.

“I will pay for it. I am sorry.”

The amount Ahnok handed over was substantial for twenty pieces of dried seaweed. The merchant blinked and tried to return some change, but Ahnok stopped him.

It was said that one shouldn’t haggle over the price of seaweed meant for a new mother. The extra amount was purely for the boy and the infant.

“…You should have just asked! I would have given it to you on credit!”

Perhaps his heart had softened after receiving several times the value of the goods, as the merchant grumbled at the boy before finally walking away.

The boy stood with his mouth agape and eyes wide, seemingly stunned by the sudden turn of events. After watching the merchant’s retreating back for a moment, Ahnok approached the boy.

Seeing the few coins placed in his own hand as well, the boy knit his brows as if suppressing an emotion and bowed his head.

“Don’t ever do this again. I’m sure your sister wouldn’t want you to get food by doing something like this.”

“…I am sorry.”

“You must go to the shop later and apologize as well.”

“Yes.”

The boy’s eyes were bloodshot and brimming with tears. At Ahnok’s nod, the cart drivers slowly released the boy’s arms.

Ahnok turned away as the boy bowed deeply in gratitude. They had passed the East Gate early in the morning and still hadn’t arrived at the Prince’s residence; he couldn’t afford any more delays.

“Thank you… truly, thank you.”

Ahnok looked back once more at the repeated thanks from the boy whose voice was still changing.

Theft was certainly wrong, and he couldn’t cover for every petty thief he encountered. Ahnok knew his actions weren’t entirely right. But shouldn’t everyone be allowed to enjoy a single act of kindness?

If he had let the boy be dragged to the magistrate, his sister—who had just given birth—would surely have suffered great distress. But because the boy returned home thanks to Ahnok’s favor, his sister could have a warm bowl of seaweed soup and breastfeed her newborn.

For Ahnok, the “single act of kindness” the world had bestowed upon him was his child. That lovely child who resembled the man he had held so deeply in his eyes and heart.

It was late April, and the passing breeze was warm, yet the tip of his nose felt cold. To Ahnok, spring was a season of loss. The season he lost Chusan, and the season he lost his child. He didn’t find it the least bit welcome.

“Why did you help that boy?”

Han-wol, who had been following Ahnok in silence, asked cautiously as they turned from the boulevard into an alley leading toward the wealthy district.

“…Just because.”

“Pardon? But he even pushed you down, Master Ahnok.”

“This much is fine.”

Ahnok suddenly looked down at the back of his hand. It was clean now, without a single scar, but he could still see the phantom image of the burn marks in his mind.

“But you have a scratch on your cheek.”

“Hm? My cheek? Ah…”

There was a scratch near his cheekbone. As Ahnok touched the reddened area around the wound, Han-wol muttered as if he were the one in pain.

“A scratch on a new bride’s face…”

Ahnok let out a small, airy laugh. Yeo Jae-won would surely have no interest in whether there was a scratch on his face or not. What mattered to the Prince wasn’t Ahnok’s appearance, but the fact that he was an Eumin male.

Whether he had a scar or not, he would be hated. No, he would likely receive no interest at all.

He thought he had settled his mind before deciding on death, but thinking that he would truly reunite with Yeo Jae-won soon made his heart pound chaotically.