Chapter 29 Side Story 1: Daily Life in the Imperial Palace

“You are truly, foolishly stubborn.”

Seo-cheon, who had been waiting with his head bowed under the Emperor’s long, silent glare, felt a flicker of confusion at the sudden reproach. As a mere guard, he could not lift his head without permission, and asking “Pardon?” was out of the question. He simply waited for the Emperor’s next words.

“Do you think someone will praise you for staying silent and enduring this?”

Only then did Seo-cheon realize why the Emperor was so displeased. The wound on his left cheek, which he had brushed off as trivial, throbbed as if to assert its presence.

The incident had unfolded like this: Seo-cheon had recently been promoted to a guard of the Middle Gate—a position that led directly to the Great Hall of the Hall of Stability. For a man of commoner birth, such a post was usually forbidden, and his promotion had been unprecedentedly swift.

While the current Emperor was known for valuing talent over lineage, this appointment was exceptionally radical. Naturally, Seo-cheon became the subject of constant gossip. Rumors were even circulating that the Emperor intended to appoint him as one of the Imperial Guards soon.

It wasn’t just talk; even veteran Imperial Guards rarely sparred with the Emperor, yet Seo-cheon was summoned to the training grounds at all hours for one-on-one matches. From the Emperor’s perspective, these sessions were a way to vent his jealousy by swinging his sword at Seo-cheon, but to onlookers, it appeared to be immense favor. The Emperor, being a perceptive man, knew exactly how it looked.

Consequently, Seo-cheon—a man with no family, no backing, and nothing to his name—instantly became a target of jealousy and suspicion. Among the guards of the Hall of Stability, who were mostly selected from noble families, none were of lowlier birth than him. The fact that a “rootless commoner” had taken their spot and was now rumored for the Imperial Guard sent their resentment soaring.

They began to spread malicious rumors, claiming Seo-cheon was cleverly using the Emperor’s affection for Gwi-bi (Noble Consort) to further his own career. Seo-cheon’s stoic nature—never explaining, never boasting, but never bowing—only served to provoke them further.

Today, the tension finally snapped right in front of the Emperor.

During their usual sparring, Seo-cheon’s wooden practice sword had snapped. Not only did it break easily, but a jagged shard had flown up and gashed Seo-cheon’s cheek deeply. While a cut on a guard’s face was a small matter, the fact that the opponent was the Emperor made it a major incident. If that shard had flown toward the Emperor instead of Seo-cheon, it would have been high treason. This meant someone could be punished for attempted treason.

“Because you act so incompetently, they see you as an easy target and pull these stunts!”

“Your Majesty, Guard Seo-cheon did not fall for this knowingly. Please, calm yourself…”

“You! If you don’t know the situation, keep your mouth shut!”

Eunuch Oh’s attempt to help Seo-cheon only fanned the flames of the Emperor’s temper. Seong Ihan raised his voice, sounding as if he had been waiting for a reason to explode.

“Do you think this is the first time?”

Eunuch Oh let out a soft “Ah…” as realization dawned on him. Pointing a finger at the still-silent Seo-cheon, the Emperor continued:

“There’s no way this is the first time. They wouldn’t have stopped at a wooden sword. You must have been treated unfairly many times before this.”

Even for a training sword, a weapon used by a guard of the Middle Gate wouldn’t just shatter during a routine spar. Someone had clearly sabotaged it, giving him a useless weapon.

“And there is no way you didn’t notice these things happening frequently.”

This was the source of the Emperor’s rage. It angered him that people dared to bully the man he had publicly declared to be the Gwi-bi’s savior and his own favorite. But what annoyed him even more was Seo-cheon’s silence.

The Emperor had specifically warned him that such things might happen. He had told him not to suffer in silence and worry the Gwi-bi, but to report any incidents to Eunuch Oh immediately.

“And yet, you kept your mouth shut until this disaster happened?”

The Emperor found it utterly unpleasant. His voice echoed loudly through the quiet hall.

“Do you think the Gwi-bi will… what, pay you any mind just because you’re hurt?”

“…Your Majesty.”

At the Emperor’s blatant and childish display of jealousy, Eunuch Oh closed his eyes tight and called out to his lord in a pained voice. He had hoped his master wouldn’t descend to such a petty level, but Seong Ihan—the most noble man under heaven—was saying exactly the things he shouldn’t.

Whenever it involved the name of Gwi-bi, Yeon Hwaun, he was always like this.

“Are you planning to loiter around him just because your face is hurt?”

At this point, Seo-cheon could no longer remain silent. He didn’t care what was said about him, but he feared the Emperor’s wild imagination might eventually bring harm to the Gwi-bi. He knelt with perfect posture and spoke.

“How could a lowly person like me have reason to see the Gwi-bi? I merely thought this childish bullying would fade if ignored, but because of my negligence, Your Majesty’s precious body was almost harmed. Please, bestow a punishment upon me.”

His speech was flawless and eloquent. He bowed his head until it touched the floor.

Ihan glared at the top of Seo-cheon’s head with a look of pure frustration before letting out a long sigh. He truly found that side of the man detestable. However, hearing the man explicitly state he was keeping his distance from the Gwi-bi soothed his petty heart just a little.

After staring at the prostrate guard for a long time, Ihan turned to Eunuch Oh.

“Catch them all. Every single one.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Though the Emperor didn’t specify who “them” were, Eunuch Oh didn’t need to ask.

“And treat that wound on his face so that not a single scar remains. What if the Gwi-bi worries because of a scar?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will ensure he is treated so not even a thread-like mark is left.”

There were only the three of them in the hall. That was the only reason Ihan felt free to speak the Gwi-bi’s name so often.

“Seo-cheon.”

Ihan called his name again. This time, his voice lost its light, petulant tone and carried a fundamental, heavy weight. Seo-cheon pressed his head lower and replied with an equally serious tone.

“I am the one who appoints you. Therefore, an act of ignoring you is no different from ignoring the Emperor. Am I wrong?”

“…This lowly subject dares not answer. Please withdraw such undeserved words, Your Majesty.”

Seo-cheon truly could not answer. To say “You are right” would be to link his lowly self to the Emperor’s dignity; to say “You are wrong” would be to contradict his Sovereign.

Ihan, however, did not back down.

“Do not forget the reason why I keep… someone like you by my side.”

“……”

“Your position is not your own. Keep that in mind.”

“…Yes, Your Majesty. I will carve it into my heart and never forget.”