Chapter 51: Amnesia Side Story 5: The Body Remembers What the Mind Forgets

“Oh Jin-seong.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Is this… right?”

At the Emperor’s utterly dejected question, Eunuch Oh almost burst into laughter despite himself. Quickly faking a coughing fit to save face, he bowed his head and replied.

“Is it not all for Your Majesty’s sake?”

Ihan, whose chest felt so stifled that he had gotten out of his carriage to walk on foot, stopped in his tracks and whipped his head around to glare at the old eunuch.

“A concubine turning the Emperor away at her door is ‘for my sake’?”

“Your Majesty, ‘turning you away’ is a harsh word. How could a concubine dare to do such a thing? It is merely that Consort Suk was unwell, and Consort Jeong…”

“Enough! If I was going to lose my memory, I should have started by forgetting you first!”

“I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty.”

Ihan turned and began walking again, ignoring Eunuch Oh, who bowed but didn’t actually look sorry at all.

The situation was this: Ihan was currently on his way back after being “snubbed” at both Wunhwa Palace (Consort Suk) and Jinnyeong Pavilion (Consort Jeong). To an outsider, it would sound like a joke—who in the palace would dare snub the Emperor?

Yet, Consort Suk, whom he hadn’t even heard had called for a physician, was suddenly lying down smelling of bitter herbal medicine. And Consort Jeong, upon seeing him, had widened her eyes and offered a “loyal protest,” claiming he must not stay.

What made it even more absurd was Consort Jeong’s parting words: ‘Your Majesty, I say this because I am your loyal subject. If you make this decision now, you will surely be hurt later. Why don’t you return for today?’

It was flabbergasting. Consort Jeong had always been a bit childlike and prone to bluntness, but she was never one to ignore protocol. And yet, she hadn’t seemed to be mocking him; she sounded like a loyal minister protecting his master from a mistake.

It was impossible to ignore now. Not just the Empress, but Suk-bi and Jeong-bin were all not only accepting Yeon Hwaun’s position but actively shielding it.

Normally, Consort Suk and Hwaun were polar opposites, and Consort Jeong had viewed Hwaun as a sworn enemy for years. If Hwaun had truly been hogging all the favor, shouldn’t they see the Emperor’s amnesia as a golden opportunity to steal that favor back? Instead, they were practically kicking him out of their rooms and trying to send him to Jeong-an Palace.

“Sigh…”

Ihan’s breath drifted like mist in the cold night air. But what he found most incomprehensible wasn’t their behavior—it was the fact that he felt relieved when they turned him away. Despite having flipped the plates with his own hand and walked to their palaces to prove a point, he felt a deep sense of peace that nothing had happened.

“What is…?”

Suddenly, Ihan stopped. He let out a low gasp at the sight before him. Without realizing it, his feet had led him straight to the gates of Jeong-an Palace, Hwaun’s residence.

The Emperor immediately suspected some kind of sorcery. From the memory loss to his feet leading him here, he was sure someone was playing a trick on him.

He had walked without thought, wanting only to clear his head of the confusing events. He wanted to erase the image of those deep, wounded eyes that had stared at him without defense, and the sight of blood pooling under Hwaun’s hand on the floor.

How could he explain this feeling? It was as if his body remembered the path even if his mind did not. He stood at the threshold of Jeong-an Palace, caught in a state of confusion that bordered on fear. The moon was exceptionally bright, illuminating the path forward as if inviting him in.

He could turn back. He knew that. He could get angry and demand his carriage. But his feet wouldn’t move. Every fiber of his being seemed to refuse to turn around.

If this is a spell, it is a truly wicked one, he thought. How could an Emperor be so bewitched?

“Your Majesty, please enter,” Eunuch Oh said, acting as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

“…Fine. It’s not as if I’m afraid,” Ihan blustered, stepping onto the moonlit path. If this truly was some scheme by Yeon Hwaun to control the palace, he intended to uncover it all. He told himself that his hurried pace and the familiar way his body moved through the halls were for that reason alone.

Hwaun, who had been biting his lip in anxiety, felt a surge of relief seeing the Emperor enter. But that relief was quickly replaced by a sharp ache in his chest.

The eyes looking at him were sharp with suspicion and coldness. It had been so long since the Emperor had looked at him that way.

“I greet His Majesty, the Emperor.”

To hide his heartbreak, Hwaun quickly knelt.

‘How many times must I tell you not to kneel on the cold floor when we are alone?’

Ihan’s voice, filled with pouting concern, seemed to echo from the past, but it vanished like the wind, leaving only a frigid silence. Ihan walked past him without a word and sat down. Hwaun remained kneeling, motionless.

Ihan scrutinized him. Though Hwaun had been in the palace for a long time, he felt like a stranger. It wasn’t just the atmosphere; it was his appearance. In the chaos of waking up, Ihan hadn’t noticed, but Hwaun wasn’t wearing the typical ornate robes of a male consort.

Gone were the flamboyant decorations. Instead, the man before him wore a deep navy outfit that looked more like a warrior’s training uniform. His hair was simply tied back with a cord, looking slightly disheveled.

“What kind of state is this?” Ihan finally spoke, his voice dripping with disapproval.

Hwaun, unsure of the intent, looked down at himself and bowed even lower. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty. I did not expect you to come, so I was practicing my swordsmanship…”

Hwaun’s face flushed slightly. Practicing and appearing disheveled had become a normal part of their life together, but knowing this “new” Ihan was seeing it for the first time made him feel shy and embarrassed.

He had heard the news that the Emperor had chosen Consort Suk’s plate. While his servants were devastated, Hwaun had simply accepted it, thinking it was a logical choice for the current Ihan. But his heart wasn’t a still pond; a rock had been thrown into it, and the ripples were unavoidable. He had gone out to swing his sword just to survive the long, lonely night.

He never dreamed the Emperor would come here.

“Swordsmanship?” Ihan asked, his voice full of disbelief.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You… were swinging a sword?”

Ihan couldn’t fathom it. The Yeon Hwaun he knew stayed as far away from masculine pursuits as possible. He doubted the man could even hold a sword properly.

Then, Ihan’s eyes began to take in the room. There were books on the desk, and on the wall, a familiar sword hung with dignity. It was a blade crafted by the finest artisan in the land, made specifically for the Emperor. It was a weapon Ihan cherished—and it was hanging in Hwaun’s room.

His heart gave a heavy thud. It was a sensation of his gut dropping to the floor.