Chapter 1: A Night stained in Red.

A night when the moon hung full and crimson in the sky. The mournful cry of a scops owl searching for its mate echoed through the desolate palace.

It was a night that stirred a strange sense of unease in the hearts of the soldiers on guard and the court ladies watching over their masters’ quarters.

Cutting through the silence of the dawn, a stifled groan of pain leaked from the Empress’s bedchamber, deep within the Imperial Palace of the Kingdom of Yeoran.

The court ladies on standby grew restless with worry, wondering if some misfortune had befallen the Empress, who should have been deep in sleep.

“Your Highness, Empress, are you alright?”

The four court ladies guarding the sliding doors to the bedroom could not wait any longer; they called out to the Empress before finally pushing the doors open.

Inside the canopied bed, the Empress was gasping for breath, his body curled up in a desperate, trembling heap.

One court lady hurried to light a candle near the bed.
The others carefully lifted the canopy and knelt by his side.

“Your Highness, it is Iryeon. Please, wake up.”

As she could not dare to touch his noble body without permission, Head Court Lady Yang Iryeon gently shook the surface of the silk quilt and called out to him again.

The Empress, Lee Haeryeong, could not seem to come to his senses.
His forehead, visible above the covers, was slick with sweat, and he shivered violently as if enduring agonizing pain.

“Jongseon, go to the Jeonuisi and bring the Imperial Physician. You must hurry.”

Iryeon spoke to a young court lady and quickly gave instructions to the other two.

“Moki, go fetch warm water and some cotton cloth. Jeonga, bring a fresh change of sleeping robes. Move quickly, hurry.”

Once the others had rushed out, Iryeon quietly sought permission from the incoherent Haeryeong.

“Your Highness. Please forgive my insolence.”

She pulled back the silk quilt and placed her hand on Haeryeong’s damp face.
She wanted to check if he had a fever.

However, his face, drenched in cold sweat, was so chilled that not a hint of warmth could be felt.

Instead, the palm against his cheek could feel his entire frame trembling piteously.

As she brushed away the hair clinging to his skin with sweat, the beautiful face characteristic of an Eumin was revealed, pale and deathly wan.

Though he had turned twenty only a few days ago and stood half a head taller than Iryeon, he never gave the impression of being large.

Perhaps it was because of his quiet and unassuming nature. Seeing him huddled so small, he still looked like the young boy she had first met.

Iryeon barely swallowed the sigh that threatened to escape at the cold temperature of his skin.

Since there was no heat, it did not seem to be the start of a heat cycle, yet why was he trembling, deep lines of worry etched themselves onto Iryeon’s face.

She first wetted a clean cotton towel from the washstand and carefully wiped Haeryeong’s face.
His long, thick eyelashes fluttered even more violently each time the towel brushed past.

Ragged breaths continued to burst from the Empress’s lips.

‘What on earth am I to do?’
Restless and frantic, Iryeon reached out to help him lie more comfortably.

In that instant, with a violent convulsion, the Empress bolted upright.

“Gasp! Good heavens!”

Iryeon collapsed onto the floor, clutching her startled heart.

The Empress, his eyes snapped wide, fumbled over his own body as if searching for something before muttering in a daze.

“Just what… what happened…?”

“Your Highness? Have you come to your senses?”

Haeryeong’s chest heaved as he struggled for air, his unfocused gaze eventually drifting toward Iryeon.

“Iryeon… is that you?”

A hollow, dazed voice, unlike his usual self, called her name.

Iryeon hurried to her feet and knelt before the bed.

“Yes, Your Highness. It is Iryeon. Why are you covered in such a cold sweat? I was worried you had fallen gravely ill.”

Haeryeong took a jagged, difficult breath as if finally catching his wind and scanned the interior of the canopied bed.

His voice remained vacant and strained as it barely slipped through his lips.

“What is… the date today?”

Iryeon, though taken aback by the sudden question, answered without hesitation.

“It is the twelfth day of the second month, Your Highness.”

“And the era name?”

“It is the fourth year of Gyeonmyeong.”

Haeryeong’s breathing grew even more shallow.

“How can…”

He muttered as if his soul were fading, pressing a hand against his sweat-drenched brow.

Iryeon used the cloth in her hand to wipe away the remaining sweat, avoiding his hand.

“What is the matter, Your Highness?”

Haeryeong shook his head heavily and lifted his wet eyes. His gaze, devoid of its usual clarity, seemed to be staring at something far away.

Iryeon looked on with concern, but he seemed to have no strength left to pay her any mind.

For a long while, Haeryeong breathed as if he were being strangled.
Then, closing his eyes tightly, his pupils trembling enough to cause dizziness, he buried his face in both palms.

“Your Highness, the Imperial Physician will arrive shortly, so please endure just a little longer.”

“The Imperial Physician is coming?”

Haeryeong lifted his glistening eyes and asked blankly.

Iryeon nodded deeply to reassure him.

“Yes, Your Highness. He should be here within half an hour, so please, try to calm yourself. Yes?”

Jongseon would be running so fast her skirts would be fluttering; she was likely arriving at the Jeonuisi by now.
If the Imperial Physician hurried, he might arrive even sooner.

Iryeon whispered in a gentle voice to soothe him, but the Empress’s breathing had become so harsh it now carried a metallic rasp.

Haeryeong was currently retracing his memories, his eyes wide and wandering in confusion as he failed to grasp the situation.

He had certainly been dying, struck down by the Emperor’s sword.

Yet, when he opened his eyes, there was no wound, nor was there any sign of the Emperor who, until a moment ago, had been swinging a blade with bloodshot eyes.

‘Was it a dream?’
It felt far too vivid for that.

The heat he felt when the blade sliced across his body still lingered on his skin. As that sensation surfaced, Haeryeong’s shoulders bunched, and he shivered.

‘To think that was a dream.’

It was impossible to believe.

Yet, the sensation of breathing right now was also undeniably real.

‘I had clearly been dying, so what had happened?’

The last thing he remembered was failing to receive even a cold, indifferent glance from the Emperor, watching his retreating back before closing his eyes in resignation.

‘The burning pain and the sensation of lukewarm liquid soaking my body are so vivid could it really be a dream?’

‘However, if Iryeon’s words were true, it had to be a dream.’

The moment Haeryeong fell by the Emperor’s sword was in the eighth year of Gyeonmyeong, just after the Limit of Heat.

Even if the sensation of his blood cooling against the stone floor was this clear, if it was now more than four years prior, then it must have been a dream.

That was the only logical explanation.

As he frantically tried to make sense of the situation, Haeryeong let out a small groan, unable to withstand the oncoming headache.

Every time he gasped for the air that refused to settle, the chest that had been slashed felt as though it were aching with pressure.

Haeryeong breathed in short, sharp bursts through his parted lips and curled them inward.

He tasted the tang of blood as if his parched lips had cracked. The metallic scent made his heart race even more violently.

As the memory of the blood welling up in his throat returned, a wave of nausea surged.

“Ugh… blegh.”

As Haeryeong began to dry heave, Iryeon quickly brought a small silver basin used for rinsing the mouth and held it before him.

Haeryeong bent his heaving back and spent a long time vomiting bitter gastric acid along with an overflow of saliva into the basin.

Only when his stomach finally settled did he crawl back under the quilt, shivering with a sudden chill.

‘It cannot be a dream. It was absolutely not a dream.’

The memories were returning far too clearly to be dismissed as a mere nightmare.

The scent of sandalwood from the perfume sachet tied to the Emperor’s sword, the coolness of the autumn air, and even the fleeting clarity of the autumn sky he glimpsed as he closed his eyes in surrender while watching the Emperor’s back.

Since it all came back so perfectly, there was no way it was a dream.

‘Then, what in the world is this situation?’

‘How have I, who should be crossing the Sanzu River, returned to the past?’

Huddled beneath the quilt, Haeryeong racked his brain furiously to grasp his current reality.

****

“Empress, did you know that Noble Consort Jeong was carrying the Imperial seed within that fragile body?”

When the Emperor, Sa Gangcheon, asked this while looking at him with eyes as cold as blue ice, Haeryeong bit his lip hard.

‘The Consort was pregnant?’

How could he have possibly known such a thing?

Who would bring such precious information to a mere Empress who existed only in name and lacked the Emperor’s favor?

What power did an Empress have to notice such things when even the Emperor looked at him as if he were an insect?

Despite this, the Emperor looked at the Empress, who happened to be with Noble Consort Jeong when he fell, with eyes full of suspicion.

No, it wasn’t suspicion; it was conviction.

Considering how he had been glaring at Haeryeong with eyes burning with rage from the moment he entered the Empress’s palace, it was clear he intended to kill him.

Haeryeong felt wronged, utterly wronged.

It was the Consort who had suggested having a cup of tea since the weather was cool and the sun was pleasant, and it was the Consort who had slipped on the bone-dry stairs of the pavilion.

Haeryeong had reached out his hand to catch him as he slipped, but he hadn’t even been able to grasp the hem of his robe.

He had merely stood there, lost in dismay, watching the other man tumble down in a panic.

“My Lord! What are you all doing? Attend to His Grace at once!”

Court Lady Han, who had been making a fuss while holding the Consort, urged the accompanying servants while casting a venomous look at Haeryeong.

“I will never let this matter pass quietly, Your Highness.”

At her words, spoken through gritted teeth as she bowed her head, Haeryeong, who still hadn’t known what to do with his outstretched hand simply let out a hollow laugh.

“You won’t let it pass?”

Court Lady Han bowed even deeper, pleading in a mournful tone.

“Even if it costs me my humble life, I shall report every detail to His Imperial Majesty.”

“Are you suggesting that I pushed the Consort?”

“I shall simply report exactly what I saw. What I saw was Noble Consort falling from stairs where nothing was present, and Your Highness being there with him. His Imperial Majesty will surely bring the truth to light with perfect clarity.”

Faced with her threatening tone, Haeryeong merely snorted and laughed.

“Do as you wish. I, too, am curious to see the Emperor’s reaction.”

After Noble Consort Jeong was taken away, Haeryeong stood there, unable to even descend the pavilion stairs, and laughed while staring at the pond.

‘So it finally comes to this.’
The unease he had always felt actually settled into a strange calm.

He had known since the moment all of the Emperor’s favor was stolen by the Consort that things would end like this one day.

‘No. Stolen was the wrong word.’

The Emperor’s affection had belonged to that man from the very beginning.

‘How could something be stolen if I never possessed it?’

Haeryeong merely let out a quiet sigh to soothe his stifled chest.

Since he never had it, he shouldn’t have had any expectations.
Yet, for some reason, his heart ached, and Haeryeong unconsciously stroked his chest.

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