Chapter 45: The Debt of a Life

Gangcheon fell into deep thought as he looked down at Haeryeong, who was twitching his fingers in his sleep.

Had the Empress not been ill, and had his breath not been rattling as if he might pass at any moment, things would have remained as they were.

He had only shown interest because it was not yet suitable to leave the position of Empress vacant, so he had to keep him alive.

However, the gaze of the revived Empress was different from before, and Gangcheon found his eyes constantly drawn to him.

After sharing kisses and the heat of their bodies, it seemed a small sense of affection was beginning to sprout.

He found it strangely enjoyable to accept the man’s drunken ramblings and his childish whimpering.

Indeed, having spent his life roaming battlefields and rolling around with rough soldiers, Gangcheon was naturally far removed from the world of pleasure.

Thus, since long ago, he had been particularly weak to fragile things, small and fine things, and beautiful things.

Of course, this only applied to things that caught his interest, but his standards were difficult to meet.

Once something caught his eye, Gangcheon tended to cherish that subject with all his heart.

Sirak was one such case.

Even while knowing the man was connected to the Minister of Rites, he had cherished him recklessly, falling for the tone of the zither he played and the floral scent he emitted.

Gangcheon quietly brushed his thumb across the area around Haeryeong’s eyes, which were raw and stained red from crying.

The cheek, which twitched with a weak tremor as if it were stinging, also looked white and fragile.

“This is a problem,” Gangcheon muttered, clicking his tongue with a laugh.

It was not good to distribute his affection here and there.

Creating many potential weaknesses was not an enjoyable prospect.

‘So, what am I to do with this?’

Gangcheon let out a quiet sigh as he smoothed the hair that had become disheveled while the man groaned and tossed in his sleep.

While Gangcheon was lost in thought, Iryeon announced her presence from outside.

“Your Majesty, I have brought the ointment.”

“Enter.”

The sound of the sliding door opening was as desolate as the whistling of the wind.

Iryeon entered with light, rustling steps and knelt before Gangcheon, bowing her head.

To her, as she held the jar of ointment with both hands, Gangcheon asked quietly.

“How many years has it been since you entered the palace?”

“I have completed sixteen full years, Your Majesty.”

It had been quite a long time; she must have entered as a young apprentice.

“And how long have you served the Empress?”

Iryeon’s fingertips trembled as she held the jar, and she prostrated herself on the floor.

“I have served him since the moment His Highness arrived in Yeoran.”

“Then you must be the person who knows the Empress best.”

Iryeon hesitated for a moment.

Even looking only at the back of her deeply bowed head, it was obvious how busily her eyes were darting around.

Gangcheon let out a silent snort, finding her internal struggle transparent.

“That is likely the case, but…”

“But you lack confidence in that statement?”

Iryeon set down the jar of ointment and kowtowed completely.

“I am sorry, but the Empress has lost his previous memories and has no recollection of me. Therefore, he is much more wary of me than before.”

“Mmm.”

Gangcheon hummed, fiddling with a long strand of the man’s hair.

He wound it gently around his fingers before speaking to Iryeon as if he had just remembered something.

“I have not forgotten that you owe me your life.”

At first, he had left her be because there was no one better suited to look after the sick Empress.

Now, he was leaving her alone because his relationship with the Empress was improving, and he felt it best not to interfere.

Iryeon bowed her head deeply and replied in a trembling voice.

“Your Majesty’s mercy is as vast as the sea; I am simply overwhelmed with gratitude.”

Gangcheon rested his elbow on his thigh and propped his chin on the back of his hand, letting out a chuckle.

“I shall collect that debt eventually. Until then, see that you serve your master with all your heart. Is he not the precious master you wished to save even if it meant lying to me?”

“I do not fear death. However, I am merely concerned for His Highness, who still lacks his memory. I, your humble servant, dare to beg you to look over the Empress until he recovers his memories. I plead with you earnestly.”

“I do not intend to do anything to you immediately, so rest easy. However, in exchange for extending your life, I must gain something in return, must I not?”

Iryeon cautiously lifted her head, but hurriedly lowered it again as she met Gangcheon’s eyes.

Gangcheon wore a deeper smile as he leaned down and whispered to the back of her head.

“If you have been in the palace for sixteen years, you must have many close acquaintances among the court ladies. If you learn of any rumors or small pieces of gossip circulating in the Imperial Palace, report them to Han Su-yong of the Black Shadow Unit.”

Unable to either lift her head or lower it further, Iryeon asked back in an awkward, confused posture.

“By ‘small pieces of gossip,’ do you mean…?”

“The little things that only women would notice. For example, stories about the young page the Captain of the West Gate Guard is currently infatuated with. Or perhaps things like what kind of tea the Noble Consort drank with his foster father.”

Gangcheon straightened his upper body as he watched Iryeon flinch and bow her head again.

“Men are utterly useless for such matters.”

The members of the Black Shadow Unit were all former soldiers and commoners, which made it even more so.

To them, important information was only what could be seen and heard directly, so the intel they brought in was limited.

No matter how much he ordered them to report everything they observed, it was hard to believe those dull brutes were catching every nuance.

The things that moved within the palace were inherently sinister, where entire conversations could be held through a single expression or a hand gesture.

To investigate such things, it was best to use court ladies who had grown old in the palace.

He had given similar instructions to the Head Court Lady of the Bedchamber, but for matters concerning the Consort’s Palace, it was right to assign the task to this side.

Thinking of the Consort as her master’s rival, she would likely pay even closer attention to detail.

“I shall keep your command in my heart and carry it out faithfully.”

Gangcheon wore a satisfied smile at Iryeon’s solemn reply.

The court ladies he had planted in the Consort’s Palace were all useless, which had been frustrating him.

The Minister of Rites and the Vice Minister of War were visiting constantly, yet for some reason, the information reaching him was far too sparse.

‘Do I suspect Sirak?’

If anyone were to ask, Gangcheon would answer “of course.”

The only ones Gangcheon trusted were the comrades who had guarded his back.

Only a very few within the Black Shadow Unit were worthy of his trust.

He had never once considered the Empress or the Consort to be on his side.

‘Cherishing someone is a different matter from trusting them.’

Gangcheon felt the time had come to start putting pressure on the Consort.

He needed to know the reason why the man acted so indifferent despite whispering about wanting the Empress’s throne.

He needed to find out exactly what Sirak hoped to gain by entering the palace.

If it was something that threatened his safety, he would behead the man without hesitation.

No matter how much he cherished him, his own life was more precious.

****

Gangcheon took the ointment and dismissed Iryeon.

Once they were alone, the sound of Haeryeong’s steady breathing became a bit louder.

Gangcheon fell into thought for a moment while rolling the jar of ointment in his palm.

But his hesitation was brief; he set the jar down beside the bed and slid beneath the quilt, merging into the space where Haeryeong lay.

What was the use in applying medicine to a man who was fast asleep?

It was only enjoyable to apply it once he had properly regained his senses.

“Is that not so, Empress?”

Giggling, Gangcheon burrowed into the quilt and embraced the huddled Haeryeong.

Though the man’s body wasn’t particularly small, Gangcheon was so large that Haeryeong seemed to vanish within his arms.

Holding the body that had grown warm from the alcohol made him feel as though sleep would come naturally.

However, it felt like a waste to just sleep.

So he poked at the sleeping Haeryeong’s cheek, but the man only tossed and turned for a moment as if annoyed.

Just as he seemed to be shifting with a slight frown, Haeryeong suddenly turned over and burrowed into Gangcheon’s chest.

The night air was cold from the late spring rain, and it seemed the man’s heated body was feeling the chill.

The tightly curled frame shivered.

Watching him burrow deeper like a dog caught in the rain, Gangcheon found he no longer had the heart to tease him.

Gangcheon quietly patted Haeryeong’s back and watched the slight frown on his forehead gradually smooth out.

‘Should I be a bit more tender?’

As he gently stroked a cheek that was beginning to look a bit more plump, Gangcheon let out a soft laugh.

Fragile things were beautiful.

Things that wore an expression of weakness as if they would collapse at a touch and clung to him were all quite lovely.

The rustle of silk robes and long, trailing hair were a joy to behold.

His mother, who died when he was a child, had been like that; Sirak was like that; and now, the Lee Haeryeong in his arms had become like that as well.

Gangcheon liked things that could not threaten his life.

Things that could not even leave a scratch on his fingernail no matter how they struggled.

He enjoyed cherishing such things.

Things that wouldn’t even dare to challenge him as long as he reminded them he held the upper hand.

Things whose skin would flush red just by him caressing them with a finger.

He liked the way they swayed while emitting a soft fragrance.

However, fragile things do not last long.

That was the lesson Gangcheon’s mother had taught him as a child.

That was why he had left the Imperial Palace without a single lingering attachment.

He had left for the battlefield, where one could survive as long as they had strength, yet why had he returned to spend his nights holding such a thing in his arms?

It was truly a mystery.

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