Chapter 122: A Flower That Changes Nothing

“I have committed… a mortal sin…”

“Please… kill… me… Your Majesty…”

Before coming here, Gangcheon had already heard why he had participated in this plot.

It was because the child he had fathered late in life—after returning home to build a family with the fiancée who had waited for him for so long—had been taken hostage.

However, Ji-hak did not know who had threatened him.

He only knew the person spoke with a border dialect.

He knew neither his name nor his affiliation.

He confessed that he had simply thought of them as remnants of the war.

Gangcheon shared a similar suspicion.

The Minister of Rites would not have openly threatened a man who was once the Emperor’s own subordinate.

The faction exchanging ciphers with him likely dealt with Ji-hak.

The rest could be uncovered by interrogating the other remnants who had been captured.

Furthermore, the truth itself did not matter much.

Regardless of the facts, there was no defense against a persistent accusation.

“I shall grant you a peaceful death for the sake of our old bond.”

“In exchange, there is a task for you to perform.”

The Minister of Rites was not someone whose case could be closed with a mere backroom interrogation like this man’s.

He would prepare a proper interrogation ground and conduct the proceedings with many officials present.

He intended to have Ji-hak testify to ensnare the man who was surely searching for a way to escape.

If the Minister claimed the documents were forged, he would have to investigate all over again to prove otherwise.

Why engage in a process of unknown duration when a faster method was available?

Gangcheon instructed Ji-hak on what he must testify, and after seeing him nod submissively, he exited the cell.

Before the iron door closed, Gangcheon whispered toward him.

“If I find your child, I shall return them to their mother’s arms.”

“However, do not hold onto hope. It is more likely they are no longer among the living.”

The moment he heard Gangcheon’s words, Ji-hak began to wail in silence.

Between his sobs and the rattling of phlegm in his throat, he wept in a thin, broken voice.

“Your Majesty’s grace… hic… is boundless… sob…”

Once the door was shut, Gangcheon instructed the jailer to treat the prisoner’s wounds just enough to keep him alive.

It would be troublesome if he died before the Minister of Rites’ interrogation could begin.

Even while issuing the command, the sound of weeping still drifted from behind the iron door.

His heart felt unexpectedly heavy.

Comrades-in-arms were those who trusted one another enough to turn their backs.

During his decade of rolling across battlefields, Ji-hak had been such a subordinate to Gangcheon.

Yet, how easily humans turned.

‘This is why it is impossible to trust anyone completely.’

Gangcheon clicked his tongue as he left the prison, only to see Manchul waiting at the gate.

Since Manchul had been with him since his birth, they had spent twenty-five years together.

‘Will this one also turn away someday?’

‘Would Seok-hwan, or the other Black Shadows, turn if someone threatened the thing most precious to them?’

“Your Majesty, are you returning to the Great Hall?”

Manchul asked as he faced the grim-faced Gangcheon.

His expression, completely unaware that he had just been the subject of suspicion, showed only concern for the Emperor who was standing there like a fool.

Gangcheon finally allowed a smile to reach his face as he looked at the expression he had seen since childhood.

As he strode forward, Manchul followed without even asking where they were going.

Even amidst the long procession following behind, the sound of his footsteps was uniquely familiar to Gangcheon.

“Manchul.”

“Please, give your command.”

“You are mine until the day you die.”

“So you must follow right behind me until you are too old to have the strength to walk.”

A voice laced with amusement came from behind.

“Do you even need to ask? Your servant shall guard Your Majesty’s side even in death.”

“Watch it, you rascal. If you appear as a ghost, I shall strike you down instantly.”

“After you drop dead, go straight to hell in peace. I do not know if I shall arrive before or after you, but let us share a drink when we meet again there.”

Manchul let out a small sigh.

“Your Majesty. You must not use such language in front of His Highness the Empress.”

“‘Drop dead,’ indeed. What Emperor in history uses such vulgar slang?”

Walking along the darkening path as the sun set, Gangcheon burst into a hearty laugh.

“It is a secret from the Empress, you rascal.”

“If you continue to use such speech, your servant shall run to him and report it.”

“They say there is no one in this world to trust. I shall have your head before you can ever do that.”

While he shared small talk with Manchul, the faint chirping of crickets could be heard from somewhere.

The surroundings grew increasingly dark, and a eunuch carrying a lantern led the way, illuminating the path.

The light the eunuch held felt like his own life.

‘The path ahead is still bright, is it not?’

‘Are there not several people by my side to light the way?’

‘Therefore, I shall live even more vigorously.’

Gangcheon reaffirmed the goal he had held since childhood—a resolve to live more robustly than anyone else until his time came.

****

Haeryeong, who had suffered from fever all night, finally opened his eyes at dawn.

His throat felt parched as soon as he woke, so he asked Iryeon for bedside water.

‘Had she stayed by my side without resting?’

Shadows cast by the candlelight lay deep across her haggard face.

“You worked hard nursing me. Since my fever seems to have broken, you should go and rest now.”

“But…”

“Only if you rest can I sleep again with a peaceful heart, can I not?”

Haeryeong handed the water bowl back to Iryeon, offering a joke in his own way.

Iryeon offered a soft smile as she took the bowl and brought over a wet cloth.

“Your sleeping tunic is damp, so please change and go back to sleep. I shall assist you and then withdraw.”

“Let us do that.”

Iryeon removed Haeryeong’s damp tunic and carefully wiped his sweat-soaked body.

As he obediently raised his arms for her, Haeryeong suddenly noticed a vase he hadn’t seen before.

Seeing him staring at it, Iryeon provided an explanation on her own.

“Those are the irises His Imperial Majesty sent. He went out to the Buyeong Pavilion and, seeing the first iris blossoms, thought of Your Highness and instructed that he personally plucked them to be sent.”

“I see.”

Haeryeong quickly looked away from the vase.

Come to think of it, had the man not told him to go to the Buyeong Pavilion every day after the irises were transplanted?

He recalled giving an answer but never actually going.

Between the distance and his inability to grasp the man’s sinister inner thoughts for planting them, Haeryeong had deliberately avoided the pavilion.

‘Is he sending these now to mock me?’

Haeryeong found it difficult to understand the Emperor’s intent in sending flowers so out of the blue.

Iryeon, who was wiping Haeryeong’s body, stole a glance at him and spoke.

“Are the irises not beautiful?”

“The flowers are beautiful.”

Iryeon let out a small laugh, seemingly guessing the hidden meaning that only the flowers were beautiful.

After she finished wiping his back, she brought out a fresh sleeping jacket.

Helping him into the jacket while ensuring his injured shoulder didn’t move too much, Iryeon whispered quietly.

“His Majesty must be feeling sorry in his own way, Your Highness.”

Haeryeong simply bit his lip at her whisper that the flowers were an apology.

“I have heard that all men are like that. Even when they know their own faults, they find it difficult to say the words ‘I am sorry,’ so they send flowers or jade hairpins instead.”

Haeryeong grew curious at her words.

“Where did you hear such a thing?”

She had entered the palace as a child; how could she know anything about men?

Since all the court ladies around her were in the same position, such talk was not something easily overheard.

At Haeryeong’s question, Iryeon whispered in a hushed tone.

“The court ladies often read popular novels. We obtain new books through friends who have visited their private homes and gather every night to read them together.”

Iryeon laughed, mentioning that they were often scolded by the Head Court Ladies because their giggling would echo over the walls.

“Do you intend to persuade me with words found in such books?”

When Haeryeong replied with a sigh, Iryeon offered a shy smile.

“Such is the life of a court lady. Since we cannot experience it ourselves, we focus on those storybooks or the romances of our superiors.”

Whispering quietly, Iryeon stole a glance at the irises.

“To be honest, my heart fluttered when I heard he sent flowers. Is he not the Emperor who has never once bestowed flowers even upon the Noble Consort?”

Haeryeong offered a quiet smile at Iryeon’s remark.

Indeed. Even in his previous life, he had never heard of the man sending flowers to the Consort.

While he had bestowed all sorts of gold, silver, treasures, and precious silks, he supposed it might be true that he was the first to receive flowers.

But what of it?

Was he supposed to end all his years of sorrow just because of a single flower?

His heart beat wildly at a surge of hot emotion.

Haeryeong barely mastered the urge to snort in derision.

He only managed to settle his churning stomach by placing a hand over his heart to soothe the thumping.

“Iryeon-ah. It is not that I do not know your heart, but please, do not speak of His Majesty anymore. I wish to hear no more regarding the Emperor.”

Iryeon bowed her head deep, her eyes wavering.

“Your servant was thoughtless.”

“I am not angry with you. I am simply sensitive because my body is still unwell. That is enough; return to your quarters and rest. I must also try to get more sleep.”

Haeryeong smiled at the anxious Iryeon to reassure her.

Once he was alone after she left, he wondered if Su-yong had returned by now.

“Han Suyong, have you returned?”

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