Chapter 21: Flickering Fragments

Learning the Imperial etiquette was not difficult. Ahnok listened to Court Lady Cho’s tedious recitations as if he were hearing them for the first time.

Since he already knew the content, he appeared to others as a genius who could master complex movements after a single explanation. The servants of the Myeong residence buzzed with gossip, whispering that the new master-to-be was exceptionally brilliant.

This only made Court Lady Cho more anxious to find a flaw in his conduct. Her desire to reprimand him over the slightest trifle was transparent.

“Your movement during the fourfold bow was incorrect. …Han-wol, hold out your palms.”

Most of the Myeong residence’s servants were former palace attendants, but Han-wol, whom Ahnok had brought from his private home, did not blend in easily. Standing blankly in the back, Han-wol’s eyes went round with shock at the sudden call of his name.

Ahnok knew exactly what this was. In his past life, the eunuch who served him had been called out just like this to receive lashes on his behalf.

Since they couldn’t strike Ahnok, they punished the servant instead. Furthermore, Ahnok was well aware that Court Lady Cho had been searching for any excuse to expel Han-wol recently.

“Which movement exactly was incorrect?”

“You leaned your upper body too low.”

“That is nothing but a forced accusation.”

Ahnok let out a hollow laugh, genuinely appalled. Court Lady Cho pursed her lips tightly.

“I am here to teach you the etiquette of the Imperial family. Naturally, my word—”

“If we continue like this, even after I am officially invested, it seems you will talk back to me at every turn and nitpick every minor detail.”

If Ahnok had truly made a mistake, he would have accepted the correction. But leaning too low? It was an absurd stretch. Even if it had been a valid critique of his posture, it was hardly an offense worth dragging a servant out to be beaten.

Court Lady Cho stared at Ahnok. From the moment she first saw him, something about him had grated on her. He felt strangely bothersome.

“…I will demonstrate the fourfold bow again.”

Lowering her eyes, she gestured to another palace attendant to show the example.

While the attendant performed the meaningless demonstration, Ahnok caught Han-wol’s eye and gave a small shake of his head, signaling that it was alright.

Once the icy lesson ended and Court Lady Cho stepped away, Ahnok headed outside the annex. Han-wol and a few servants followed him for a light stroll.

“Master Ahnok, for someone like me, a few lashes are nothing,” Han-wol whispered hesitantly.

Walking leisurely behind the annex, Ahnok stopped and turned to look at him.

“If a mistake were truly made, I should be the one to receive the punishment.”

“But how could someone like you… no, that cannot be.”

“Besides, you did nothing wrong just now. Therefore, there is even less reason for you to be struck. You don’t have to live your life enduring such things.”

These were words he wished he could have said to his past self. He had endured even when he knew he was being trapped; he had pretended not to notice even when he knew he was being deceived.

In this returned life, he refused to live so foolishly again. Nor did he want the people he cared for to accept such treatment as a matter of course.

“By the way, why is this tree so small?”

Having wandered to the front yard, Ahnok spotted a short sapling poking its head out among the perfectly manicured trees.

“It seems it was newly planted.”

“Yes, it looks like a fresh sapling.”

Ahnok knelt slightly to observe the small tree, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“That is a pear tree that His Highness the Prince of Myeong personally ordered to be planted.”

One of the servants who had been following at a distance spoke up. This servant had been involved in the annex renovations and knew every corner of the newly decorated grounds.

A pear tree. At those words, Ahnok’s smile slowly vanished.

“The Prince… ordered this? A pear tree?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

Ahnok stared at the empty air just past the sapling, his voice sounding hollow.

“…Why?”

For what reason would Yeo Jae-won order a pear tree to be planted here? Of all trees, why that one?

Ahnok’s expression remained frozen as he murmured the question to himself. The servant, sensing the shift in atmosphere, muttered that he didn’t know and quietly slipped away.

Unless he asked Yeo Jae-won himself, there would be no answer. Ahnok’s gaze, which had been warm a moment ago, turned cold as he stared at the little tree.

He turned his back on the sapling that would one day become a pear tree.

While Ahnok was traveling from Baekya-bu to the capital, Yeo Jae-won had also returned to his duties, spending busy days at the court.

Even before the Crown Prince’s early death, he had been in charge of the Ministry of Justice (Hyeong-bu).

The brothers had divided the labor: the Crown Prince handled the Ministry of Personnel (I-bu) and Revenue (Ho-bu), Yeo Jae-won handled Justice, and Prince Hye involved himself in Rites (Ye-bu). The other brothers, who had little interest in politics, only participated occasionally when summoned by the Emperor.

Since returning from the three-year mourning period, Yeo Jae-won and Prince Hye had divided the Personnel and Revenue ministries between them. With the added weight of Personnel on top of his existing Justice duties, Yeo Jae-won’s days were a relentless blur of work.

“Have you returned?”

Court Lady Lee met him at the door as if she had been waiting.

He had just come back to the residence after the morning audience and a review of the ministry business. Stepping out of the carriage, Yeo Jae-won walked toward the gate but paused to scan the surroundings.

He was reacting to news that had reached the residence from the capital’s East Gate early that morning. The guards had reported that the bride’s procession from Baekya-bu had crossed the gate at dawn.

It seemed the predictions of Court Lady Lee and Eunuch Seok—that the bride would arrive by noon, just as the Prince was finishing his court duties—had been slightly off. The area around the residence was silent.

“Ah, Master Ahnok of Baekya-bu has not yet arrived.”

At her words, Yeo Jae-won’s brow furrowed slightly. It wasn’t that he was displeased with her for trying to read his mind—she had served him a long time, after all—but rather… it felt as if she were implying he had been waiting for Ahnok.

A man, an Eumin, with a negligible background. An unwanted marriage partner. By any logic, there was no reason for Yeo Jae-won to wait for him.

“Bring him to the main building as soon as he arrives.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

As his tone grew colder, Court Lady Lee answered respectfully and exchanged a quick glance with Eunuch Seok. Her eyes asked if something had happened at the palace, but the Eunuch only gave a small shake of his head, looking equally puzzled.

Usually, upon returning home, Yeo Jae-won would examine reports sent from his fief, Hamyeong-ju, but for some reason, the words wouldn’t enter his mind. He set the rolled scrolls aside on the corner of the desk just as Eunuch Seok entered.

“Your Highness, Master Ahnok arrived a moment ago and has been escorted to the main building.”

Yeo Jae-won, who had been pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose to combat a throbbing headache and a sharp pain behind his eyes, slowly looked up.

Ahnok.

It was a name that should have felt unfamiliar, yet it felt as if he had spoken it a thousand times. He chewed on the name silently.

“…Shall I bring him in?”

When no answer came from his master, Eunuch Seok asked again.

Yeo Jae-won straightened up from his languid lean against the backrest and nodded.

Ahnok, Ahnok… Ahnok.

Every time he repeated the name internally, his mind felt like it was tangling into a messy knot. The facts he knew were clashing with fragments of memories that felt like they belonged to someone else.

Suddenly, Yeo Jae-won felt his vision flicker and pulse as the headache intensified. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his body, followed by a blurry, fragmented memory of an event he couldn’t place.

In that fragment, Yeo Jae-won was holding someone in his arms. That person was wearing a pale, water-colored robe, now drenched in dark red blood. And he himself was desperately shouting a two-syllable name, as if trying to call back a departing soul.

“…Ahnok?”

He couldn’t remember the name that felt like a lump blocking his throat, making it hard to breathe—and yet, his tongue pronounced it naturally.

Had he… spoken the name “Ahnok” before?

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