Chapter 47: The Phantom Matrix

If he went to the Jeongan Palace, he would inevitably have to see Yeo Jae-won cradling his nephew and showering him with affection. If that happened, he felt as though he would keep remembering how the man had merely glanced at their own cold, lifeless child.

He would be reminded of how a man who was so tender to his nephew had remained completely cold, his expression hardened, in the face of his own child’s death.

Anok shook his head without realizing it.

“……I shall return to the inner quarters now.”

His voice was flat, but his lips trembled faintly. Though he felt Yeo Jae-won’s steady gaze following him, Anok fled the room as if escaping.

One set of doors after another opened in succession before him. The servants opening the doors looked visibly flustered as the Princess, who usually adhered strictly to decorum and never rushed anything, walked past them with such hurried steps.

“Did something happen?”

Since Anok had only taken Eunuch Im with him to the main estate, Han-wol—who had been waiting in the inner quarters—asked as he threw out some lukewarm tea and began heating fresh water. Anok sat down, trying to calm his pale face.

“No.”

He shook his head, his voice completely devoid of strength. Han-wol’s brows furrowed with immediate worry as he stepped closer.

“But why do you look so entirely drained of energy?”

Han-wol was one of the very few people Anok allowed close to him. Neither Eunuch Im nor Court Lady Yoo, who had newly arrived to replace Court Lady Cho, could ever speak to him with such familiarity.

There was a world of difference between the rigid, formulaic worry of those bound by strict palace etiquette and the genuine concern that came from Han-wol’s heart. Anok shook his head at the boy’s voice, which sounded entirely at a loss as to how to comfort him.

“It is nothing. The weather must be getting warmer.”

The Baekya Manor was an exceptionally cold land. This was evident from the way a long winter descended every half-century, violently shaking the region. Han-wol nodded in agreement, reasoning that it was entirely understandable for Anok, who had lived in such a place, to feel drained now that he had to experience the distinct summer of the capital.

“It certainly seems different from the Baekya Manor. Even now, the heat at midday is enough to make one sweat. I will bring you some chilled tea instead.”

Han-wol rose with a bright smile, seemingly pleased to have found something helpful to do, or perhaps hoping it would cheer Anok up.

However, Anok only managed to soften his expression slightly until Han-wol left the room. His face darkened again instantly, and he looked down at his empty arms, lifting them slightly to measure a specific weight.

“Was it around this size……?”

Having been born before reaching full term, the child had been heartbreakingly small. The imperial physician had explained that a male omegian was different from an ordinary woman and could not carry a child for as long. The physician had almost been sentenced to a severe flogging on the spot for carelessly bringing up Noble Consort Sa’s past pregnancies as an example, but the reality remained that premature births were common.

Regardless, though the child was born small, it had grown larger by the day under the devoted care of Anok and the wet nurse. Consumed with looking after the infant, Anok had completely stopped his daily routine of visiting the Seonghwa Hall to share breakfast with the Emperor.

The Emperor would visit the Gyoyeong Palace only once every three or four days. He would merely stand still, staring at the child wrapped in swaddling clothes within the wet nurse’s arms before leaving. He had flatly refused with a look of displeasure several times when the Chief Eunuch implored him to hold the child just once.

Watching a man who would gladly settle a much older Yeo Song onto his lap to teach him characters draw such a clear line against his own child, Anok had blamed himself, turning the guilt inward.

Does he hate the child simply because it was born from our union? It felt as though the child’s lack of love was entirely his own fault.

Staring down at his empty arms suspended in the air, a hollow laugh escaped Anok’s lips. A profound sense of emptiness and helplessness seemed to instantly weigh down his entire body.

Though it had only been a few months since this life began, Anok knew he had already changed a great deal.

He had refused to be a helpless victim to Seol Ga-mook and had successfully protected Han-wol from him. Upon arriving in the capital, his kindness had saved a young boy, and he had drawn an unexpected amount of interest from Yeo Jae-won. Though Noble Consort Sa had not yet begun her overt attacks, he had already cut away Court Lady Cho, the eyes and ears she had planted inside his estate.

Therefore, things would happen exactly as he intended. It would unfold precisely like the final words he had left for his dying child, promising that they would never meet in the next lifecycle.

“Grand Consort?”

Having approached unnoticed, Han-wol called out as he set down a cup of chilled tea before Anok. Noting the condensation pooling along the outer surface of the cup, Han-wol wiped the moisture away with a clean cloth.

“Please try it. It is a chilled tea made from five-flavor berries.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Forcing himself out of his thoughts, Anok offered a gentle smile and lifted the cup. As the sharp blend of sour and sweet notes touched his tongue, his mood seemed to lift a fraction.

“Since you skipped your midday meal, shall I have the evening feast prepared early? Since you mentioned having no appetite, perhaps dishes with bolder seasoning would be good.”

With Han-wol chattering away by his side, the room did not feel quite so lonely. Perhaps because he had only ever known brothers who were worse than strangers, Anok felt as though this boy was his own younger brother. Seeing the soft smile settle over Anok’s face, Han-wol’s eyes crinkled into a bright smile.

“Ah, Grand Consort. I heard some news while visiting the pantry.”

“Oh?”

“They say that around the beginning of summer, there is a massive fire festival held along the capital’s Hongjeon River. The kitchen servants said the river is lined with lanterns of all shapes and sizes, making it a spectacular sight, and they even play fire-twirling games.”

Anok was well aware of the famous Hongjeon River Fire Festival. However, he had never actually gone to see it; he had only heard that lanterns were hung along the river and that children ran around enjoying themselves with hand-lanterns.

The festival was so famous and highly anticipated by the populace as second only to the Dragon Boat Festival that even the imperial family showed immense generosity. The Ministry of War would open the armories to orchestrate a magnificent pyrotechnic display on the final night of the three-day celebration.

“Don’t you think going out to see such a vibrant spectacle would help ease some of the loneliness you carry? I know it is difficult for you to leave the estate freely, but if you request it of the Prince, I am certain he will grant his permission.”

If he were to approach him like a child begging to see a fire festival, what kind of expression would Yeo Jae-won wear? Anok’s features tightened into a strained, reluctant grimace.

“I am not so sure…….”

“What harm could there be in at least raising the question once?”

Though Anok’s personal interest in such spectacles had long since faded, he could not entirely ignore the sparkling, hopeful look in Han-wol’s eyes. As he offered a slow nod, a radiant smile spread across Han-wol’s face.

As if Han-wol’s words had served as a direct instruction to the kitchens, the evening meal laid out before Anok possessed a rich, savory depth that stood in stark contrast to his usual mild, unseasoned fare. Despite the enhanced flavors, his appetite remained sluggish; after moving his utensils slowly through a prolonged meal, Anok retreated to the study within the inner quarters as evening fell.

Just as Yeo Jae-won had said, Anok had officially become the master of the estate. Though he harbored no lingering attachments or desire for permanence within these walls, he felt a strong sense of duty to execute his domestic responsibilities perfectly while he remained.

Consequently, reviewing the financial ledgers detailing the estate’s management over the past several years had become his latest undertaking. When Chief Eunuch Seok had handed over the volumes, his face had practically shown his confusion as to why the Princess was voluntarily choosing such grueling labor, but Anok had remained entirely unfazed.

Having thrown open the half-moon-shaped window, the crisp, rhythmic chirping of grass insects drifted in from the distant dark. The evening breeze sweeping through the lattice was perfectly cool, bringing a welcome sense of tranquility.

Examining the financial records, Anok discovered that the master of this estate was a remarkably diligent and calculating individual. While it remained true that his royal stipend served as the primary source of income, Yeo Jae-won had also systematically acquired highly lucrative commercial buildings in the heart of the capital’s business districts, alongside vast tracts of exceptionally fertile land.

Having poured every ounce of his concentration into the numbers, Anok remained completely oblivious to the soft click of the study door opening. Furthermore, he failed to notice when the delicate silk screen hanging just a short distance from his desk was smoothly brushed aside, rustling softly before settling back into place.

“Grand Consort, perhaps you ought to take a moment to enjoy some tea.”

“Leave it over there……. ……Wait.”

Eunuch Im was a palace eunuch castrated at a tender age; his voice was physically incapable of producing such a deep pitch. Han-wol, while possessing a deeper voice than Eunuch Im, still retained the higher, youthful cadence characteristic of boys his age.

Instinctively assuming the speaker was merely one of his personal servants, Anok had prepared to respond without ever lifting his eyes from the ledger—but the strangely close proximity of the speaker and the hauntingly familiar, low baritone vibrating against his ears caused him to snap his head up in absolute shock.

Standing right there, bending his frame slightly forward with a level, unreadable expression, was the Prince himself—the very man who had just casually addressed his own bride with a high honorific title.

As Anok’s round, astonished eyes blinked slowly in sheer bewilderment, his long, thick eyelashes fanned out in absolute silence, as if they might emit a soft rustle with every motion. He froze completely, his faintly flushed lips parted in utter silence as he stared up at the man.

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