Chapter 130: A Lesson in Cruelty

“Your servant… does not know for certain.”

“My mother passed away early without ever mentioning another father to me.”

“Therefore, I have lived my life believing the man who died when I was young was my true father.”

Sirak racked his brain while answering the Emperor’s query.

How should he respond so the Emperor would accept it as a possibility and move on?

He contemplated many times whether he should just tell the truth.

The Emperor had likely asked because he already knew everything.

But telling the truth to buy trust could lead to his past being fully exposed.

He had to hide the fact that his village had been annihilated by the Emperor’s troops, even if it meant his death.

At the very least, the Emperor must never know of his traitorous heart.

Remaining as an ignorant, greedy person was his only chance at survival.

It was better to pretend he entered the palace blinded only by silk, gems, and status.

Of course, he wondered what the use was in living so wretchedly, begging his enemy for his life.

Yet he could not die when he had accomplished nothing.

It was too unfair for him to die alone while the Emperor and Empress were both unharmed.

Sirak looked up at the Emperor with eyes brimming with tears.

“Your Majesty. Is this why you have kept your distance from your servant all this time?”

“Your servant entered the palace only seeking the love Your Majesty provides… how could you do this to me?”

Shedding tears as if truly wronged was not a difficult feat.

He held the droplets on his lashes until he blinked, letting them roll down and soak his cheeks.

Sirak could not be certain of the Emperor’s expression through his blurred vision.

Was he believing him? Or did he suspect a shallow trick?

Sirak sobbed while looking at the Emperor.

“Did you suspect your servant of participating in the treason?”

“How could I harbor such wicked thoughts when Your Majesty cherished me so much?”

The Emperor offered no reaction and simply stared back.

He didn’t move to soothe the weeping Sirak, nor did he reach out.

It would have been better if he had just said he couldn’t believe a word of it.

Then Sirak would have dropped this farce and spat in his face.

Sirak disguised his rising rage as deep sorrow and crawled across the filthy floor toward the Emperor.

“Why do you not know your servant’s heart?”

“How can you be so heartless, Your Majesty? I was hurt thinking you were distancing yourself, and all the while you were harboring such suspicions? You are too cruel.”

He clung to the Emperor’s legs as he sat in his chair and wept, prompting a deep sigh from the man.

Sirak buried his face in the Emperor’s thigh, whimpering.

“Your Majesty was the one who promised to give me every beautiful and precious thing.”

“Did I not enter the palace believing only in that? Yet why… why do you distance yourself and treat me with such neglect?”

The Emperor’s hand descended to cup the back of his head.

Unlike usual, the hand slid between the long strands of hair and gently rubbed his scalp.

Sirak felt a small sense of relief at the softness of the touch.

Like a spoiled child, he rubbed his face against the man’s thigh.

“Lift your face. I must see what kind of expression you wear while speaking such words.”

The voice was a quiet whisper as usual, but it carried a distinct chill.

Sirak froze, and the man chuckled before whispering again.

“Sirak-ah. Did I not tell you to lift your head? I said I was curious about your expression.”

Sirak hesitantly lifted his tear-soaked face.

He blinked to clear his vision, seeing the Emperor’s face a bit more clearly.

The cold smile was the first thing he noticed.

Opening his lips into a crooked grin, the Emperor whispered in a low, deep voice.

“I see; you have always told me lies with this very face. No wonder I was fooled so easily.”

Sirak desperately denied his words.

“Th-that is not true. You misunderstand, Your Majesty. Your servant has never told you a lie.”

There was no evidence, after all.

There would be no proof that he was Lord O’s biological child or Yun Hyeon-pyeong’s grandson.

At most, there might be evidence that his mother lived with Yun Hyeon-pyeong’s son.

But that was not proof that Sirak was his grandson.

Sirak was born after his mother crossed the border, and no one in the capital knew the exact timing of his birth.

Not even the Emperor, nor Yun Hyeon-pyeong.

Furthermore, Sirak had heard nothing from his mother about what happened before he was born.

So, even if Yun Hyeon-pyeong regarded him as a grandson, Sirak did not see him as kin.

They had joined hands out of shared interests, but Sirak felt not a shred of familial affection for him.

However, the Emperor seemed to have already hardened his suspicion into a conviction.

Facing that calm, downward gaze that showed no sign of wavering made Sirak’s heart pound violently.

What should he do? Was insisting on his innocence the only way?

“Then I suppose it was My misunderstanding. To make it up to you, I shall show you a fine spectacle. I was just about to hold a delightful ‘banquet’ anyway. It will be more enjoyable if My favorite consort joins us.”

The Emperor patted the back of Sirak’s head and nodded toward the door that was still open.

At that moment, someone entered and the iron door slammed shut.

Sirak could not even turn his head toward the door because of the Emperor’s hand pressing down on him.

He could only look up at the Emperor with terror-filled eyes as the man smiled tenderly.

“Since I seared his eyes yesterday, I was just thinking of pulling out his fingernails and toenails today. Sirak-ah, look forward to it. His screams are quite pleasant to the ear.”

Sirak’s eyes went even wider at the Emperor’s cruel words.

His pupils shook uncontrollably as he busily scanned the man’s face.

What was this man saying? Was what he heard truly not a dream?

Sirak shivered at the tender laughter ringing in his ears.

Before he knew it, the hand he had placed on the man’s thigh was clutching the fabric of the dragon robe mercilessly.

However, Sirak had no time to realize it, unable to take his eyes off the Emperor who was smiling as if genuinely enjoying himself.

Gangcheon stared quietly at the unconscious Sirak when Yun Hyeon-pyeong’s second toenail was pulled out.

Seeing the man’s pale face leaning against the chair, a bitter laugh escaped him.

“Oh dear. The Consort has lost consciousness. Seok-hwan. Take the Consort back to his quarters.”

While Seok-hwan gathered Sirak, Hyeon-pyeong screamed in a rage.

His affection for his grandson must have been deep enough to make him forget the pain.

“You beast! You cursed bastard who is less than an animal!”

Hyeon-pyeong spat out a raspy, phlegm-filled voice, saying even beasts cherish their own kind.

Looking at him, Gangcheon simply offered a bitter smile.

“You are being noisy.”

With a glance at the torturer, Yun Hyeon-pyeong’s mouth was stuffed with a piece of cloth.

Despite that, as if unable to contain his fury, he continued to howl throughout the pulling of his nails.

“I wonder when you will finally repent for your sins and apologize. I shall leave your tongue intact until then, so blabber as much as you wish.”

Gangcheon had delayed Hyeon-pyeong’s execution as long as possible.

He intended to dig deeper into his relationship with Sirak, and he felt that execution was a mercy far too generous for someone who dared to harm the Empress.

Thus, he visited this place whenever he had time to watch Hyeon-pyeong being tortured.

Whenever Hyeon-pyeong passed out from the struggle, he would wake him and ask about his relationship with the Consort over and over.

He also inquired several times about why the man had entered the palace and his true background.

However, Hyeon-pyeong had denied the relationship until now.

He had brought Sirak here, thinking the Minister might have a change of heart if his grandson denied the bond before his eyes, but it had been of little use.

Did the man not realize that his frantic reaction only served to fuel the Emperor’s suspicion?

Then again, having been deprived of sleep and subjected to agony for days, he likely had no mental capacity for reason.

Still, his grandson must be precious to him.

People usually confess to things that aren’t even true under such pain, yet he remained consistent.

It was a truly remarkable display of affection.

Having grown up without ever feeling the warmth of family, Gangcheon could not understand the man’s actions at all.

Yet, he felt a small pang of envy toward Sirak.

They hadn’t even lived together, yet the man was taking his side simply because of shared blood.

It was worlds apart from the pressure he had faced from his siblings and the neglect he had received from the Emperor during his youth in the palace.

‘Is that what blood ties are?’

As he thought this indifferently, he suddenly recalled the Empress and his siblings.

They had been genuinely happy to meet after so long.

Gangcheon remembered the long hair fluttering behind the Empress as he lunged into his siblings’ arms, and his shoulders shivering as he wept against them.

He also recalled the radiant smile he had seen at the banquet.

He remembered the flushed cheeks of the man who had been too busy chatting with his siblings to even turn his face toward the Emperor.

The large eyes that usually drooped with a sense of injustice when with him had been sparkling with vitality.

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