Chapter 3: Left to Burn Alone

This time, heat surged through the body that had once been chilled to the bone.

The Imperial Physician, who was supposed to arrive within half an hour, had not appeared even after two hours had passed.

Haeryeong realized his situation once again.

From this point on, he was already an empress whose status was so great that even the royal physician hesitated.

Tears gathered in the corners of his reddened eyes.

It was not out of sadness, but out of sheer bitterness.

Just how much did the Emperor hate his young Empress, who had only just reached adulthood, to treat him with such neglect?

As Haeryeong curled into a ball, gasping for breath, cold wet towels were continuously replaced upon his forehead.

Iryeon and the court ladies stayed by his side throughout the night, mourning his pained groans with worried whispers.

“Mok-a, go to the icehouse and fetch more ice.”

Iryeon directed the younger court ladies while wiping the sweat from Haeryeong’s body.

She seemed to have no time to even wipe the perspiration from her own brow.

Iryeon’s tender touch made the tears well up even more.

They say that the more one is comforted, the more one’s weeping grows.

A long stream of water traced down his face, which was turned to the side, and soaked into his hair already drenched with sweat.

Because his fever was so high, the path where the tears had passed felt strangely frigid.

Haeryeong’s lips trembled as he let out a congested breath.

“Your Majesty…”

Iryeon leaned in at the faint sound, but Haeryeong had already closed his flickering eyes and lost consciousness.

Consequently, Iryeon failed to hear the words he swallowed back into his throat.

‘I would rather you just kill me.’

If this was his inevitable fate, Haeryeong wished he could simply die now.

****

It was only after another hour had passed that the Imperial Physician finally arrived, took the Empress’s pulse, and delivered a diagnosis.

“His Highness is suffering from a severe deficiency fever, so I shall prescribe medicine to restore his vitality.”

“The pills are to be taken before every meal, and the herbal medicine must be carefully brewed and served after every meal.”

While the physician relayed several precautions to Iryeon, Haeryeong briefly opened his eyes without anyone noticing before closing them again.

With the fever raging, he could no longer distinguish between dream and reality.

His fever-stricken head throbbed, and his body felt heavy and aching, as if pressed down by boulders.

From his knuckles to every inch of his frame, it felt as though he were being shattered, and groans escaped him involuntarily.

Yet, in the midst of it all, a part of him found the situation so absurd that the corners of his mouth curled up on their own.

What lingering attachment remained that prevented him from dying and brought him back here?

What was it he hoped for in returning?

Haeryeong pondered the answer before completely letting go of his hazy consciousness.

‘What use is there in knowing?’

‘Even if I knew, it isn’t as if there is a clever way out.’

The medicine sent by the physician from the Bureau of Medicine was incredibly bitter.

The round pills, the size of a fingertip, felt slippery and stuck to the inside of his mouth every time he chewed them, making his stomach churn.

Nevertheless, whenever he regained consciousness, Haeryeong could not bring himself to refuse the hands of the court ladies feeding him.

He swallowed the nauseatingly bitter medicine they offered.

He drank the decoctions to control the heat and ate the restorative pills with every meal, but the Empress’s fever showed no sign of breaking.

Two more days passed before word reached the Emperor that the Empress was bedridden with a fever.

However, no one believed that this was the first the Emperor had heard of the news.

The Emperor simply summoned the physician, heard the report on the Empress’s symptoms, and gave the order to look after him well.

No one thought it strange that the Emperor did not head for the Empress’s Palace, even after hearing that his only legal spouse was hovering between life and death.

This was because the Emperor was currently infatuated with the Noble Consort he had recently brought in, wearing down the threshold of the Consort’s quarters with his nightly visits.

The Emperor’s reaction was so cold that people even whispered that a fishbone in the Consort’s dinner was of more concern to him than the illness of an Empress with whom he had yet to share a wedding night.

The only ones burning with anxiety over this news were the court ladies of the Empress’s Palace; even the Empress himself considered it the natural order of things.

Haeryeong briefly regained his senses, and upon hearing the news, he closed his eyes with a bitter smile.

If there was any silver lining, it was that the Imperial Physician, who had visited only once, began to frequent the palace.

Under the Emperor’s supreme command, several physicians from the Bureau of Medicine came to take the Empress’s pulse.

One suggested it might be heart-fire, while another argued it was severe ischemia.

Various opinions were exchanged, but they moved in and out of the Empress’s Palace without confirming a precise diagnosis.

Ten days passed in this manner, yet there was no improvement in the Empress’s condition.

It was only then, as if just remembering, that word reached the Empress’s Palace that the Emperor had summoned the physicians again.

Upon hearing the news, Iryeon beat her chest in silence, fearing the Empress might hear.

Her heart ached for the Empress, who had been calling out for the Emperor throughout his unconsciousness.

The Emperor’s heartless indifference to the Empress’s feelings made Iryeon and the other court ladies dampen their sleeves with tears every day.

During that time, Haeryeong, delirious with fever, relived the day of his death over and over again.

Fading in and out of consciousness, he lost all sense of time.

Not knowing whether it was day or night, or if a new day had dawned, he wandered endlessly through his dreams.

Things he hadn’t noticed before, blinded by emotion, appeared anew each time the dream repeated.

The expression the Emperor wore, how his eyebrows twitched, and the way his dragon robes billowed.

As it repeated countless times, the dream became increasingly vivid.

Within it, Haeryeong fell by the Emperor’s sword time and time again.

Each time, the Emperor would leave the palace coldly, leaving Haeryeong behind as he collapsed and spilled his life’s blood.

There was never a single exception.

Haeryeong could vaguely guess why the Emperor had been so enraged back then.

It was likely because the Noble Consort, whose Eumin nature was unstable, had already suffered two miscarriages.

Since he had nearly lost a third, it was only natural for the Emperor, who cherished him so, to be furious.

However, understanding the reason for that anger did not lessen the shame and despair Haeryeong felt.

On the contrary, the more he felt the disparity in the Emperor’s affection, the more miserable he became.

How could it be so different?

There was no difference between the Consort and himself in being the Emperor’s spouse.

He wanted to ask the Emperor if they ever met.

‘How are we so different?’

‘What is it about me that fails to satisfy you so?’

Every time he swallowed the questions forming in his feverish mouth, his body seemed to grow even hotter.

Whenever he let go of his fever-blurred mind, the Emperor’s sapphire-cold rage would invariably crush the Haeryeong within his dreams.

****

In his dream, Haeryeong sobbed, his palms pressed tightly against the stone floor.

Tears fell because he felt wretched for having been unable to let go of his lingering attachments for so long.

Tears came because he felt pathetic for being hurt by the Emperor’s actions until the very, very end.

“I would rather you tell me to die.”

Haeryeong erupted in sorrow, looking up with eyes streaming with tears.

“Since you cannot do that, I shall be the one to die.”

The Emperor met his scream—a cry torn from a bleeding heart—with a scoff.

“You always pretended to be so gentle before me, but now your true nature finally reveals itself.”

“I wonder how much you have persecuted the fragile Consort with that venomous disposition of yours all this time.”

A metallic scent rose from his throat, which was hot and aching from holding back his sobs.

The tears flowing down his cheeks felt as though they were blood.

Every time he let out a jagged breath, the scent of blood rose from his parched throat.

The metallic smell made his stomach turn.

As his body heaved from his twisting insides, Iryeon’s worried face flickered beyond his blackened vision.

When he managed to force his swollen eyes open, Iryeon burst into tears.

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

Iryeon said something within his narrowed field of vision, but he couldn’t properly understand the muffled, ringing sounds.

Haeryeong simply let out a pained groan as if he were dying.

He breathed raggedly, then curled into a ball as he coughed.

Seeing this, Iryeon sobbed as she wiped his face with a cold, damp cloth.

“Your Highness, please, try to stay awake.”

Because his body was so hot, even the slightest brush of Iryeon’s hand as she held the cloth felt like a searing burn.

When he moved, his sleeping robes and the soft silk quilt rubbed against him, making his skin sting.

It felt as though his entire body were on fire.

Every time Haeryeong thrashed as if having a seizure, the sobbing of Iryeon and the surrounding court ladies grew louder.

“Your Majesty… Your Majesty…”

A single question surfaced in Haeryeong’s mind as he lost consciousness from the pain.

‘Why are you so cruel to me?’

Iryeon, weeping as she laid the fainting Haeryeong back down, wiped her eyes firmly with her sleeve.

“Mok-a, look after His Highness well.”

“If something happens and I do not return, you must take responsibility and lead the other girls. Do you understand?”

“Head Court Lady, what are you saying?”

“I must go and see His Majesty. I intend to plead with him, telling him how desperately His Highness is calling for him.”

“I can only hope that His Majesty does not take offense at my insolence.”

Mok-a looked back and forth between the Empress and Iryeon, clasping her hands before her chest.

Considering the Empress had been ill for days, it was the right thing to do.

Yet, she also wanted to stop her, fearing that Iryeon might come to harm.

Mok-a looked at her for a moment with trembling eyes before bowing her head.

“Please return safely, Head Court Lady.”

Iryeon straightened her disheveled robes and smoothed her sides and waist, performing a final check.

Then, with a determined stride, she left the Empress’s Palace.

It felt as though the full moon had been only a few days ago, but it had already become a thin crescent.

It had been ten frantic days, so much so that she hadn’t even noticed the changing of the moon.

The surroundings were dark because clouds obscured the already tiny moon.

The path, lit only by a single lantern, felt like the future of the Empress and herself, making her legs tremble.

However, Iryeon bit her lip hard and hurried toward the Great Hall.

It took about fifteen minutes to walk briskly from the Emperor’s private quarters to the Empress’s Palace.

Arriving at the Great Hall, Iryeon took slow, deep breaths to calm her racing heart and stood before the Imperial Guards and court ladies waiting in front of the building.

“Inform His Majesty. Tell him an urgent message has arrived from the Empress’s Palace.”

A court lady bowed before her.

“Head Court Lady, His Imperial Majesty has already retired for the night. There was a strict command to let no one in.”

“Tell him I have come to deliver the Empress’s final testament.”

“It is a matter of life and death, so hurry.”

At twenty-seven, Iryeon was far too young to be a Head Court Lady.

It had been barely three months since she was appointed to fill the vacancy left by Court Lady Han, who had become the Head Court Lady of the Consort’s Palace.

She was not yet accustomed to speaking in such a manner, nor was she brave enough to dare seek an audience with the Emperor.

Even now, she was so terrified that the hands she had clasped within her sleeves were shaking violently.

But if the Empress’s fever did not break and he passed away like this, Iryeon felt she would regret it for the rest of her life.

She wanted to fulfill her master’s wish, even if it cost her her life.

She wanted to grant his desire to see the Emperor, which he voiced even in his delirium.

Iryeon watched the back of the court lady running inside through the closing sliding doors and clenched her teeth.

Whether it went well or not, it would be difficult for her to survive.

Since she had lied about bringing the Empress’s final testament, she would not escape the death penalty for the crime of deceiving the Imperial family once the truth was revealed.

Since the Empress had no political backing, it would be difficult for him to save her even if he found out.

However, Iryeon had already made up her mind.

‘Please wait, Your Highness. I, Iryeon, will make sure to bring His Majesty to you.’