Chapter 52: Amnesia Side Story 6: The Only Person You Can Trust

Seong Ihan remembered nothing, yet the world surrounding him was overflowing with evidence of how much he had cherished Yeon Hwaun.

“Your Majesty…”

Hwaun spoke cautiously, breaking the silence that Ihan had maintained.

“Speak.”

“It is just…”

“Do not be hesitant.”

The more turbulent and complex his mind became, the more strictly Ihan controlled his outward voice. He kept it cold and frost-like. He was the Emperor. His mistakes were directly linked to the safety of the nation and its people; he had to test every stone before crossing the bridge.

Amidst Ihan’s internal struggle, Hwaun asked:

“Is your body… alright now?”

“…….”

“Do you still feel pain anywhere?”

What had unsettled Hwaun the most was the fact that he couldn’t be by Ihan’s side to look after him. Ihan was a man who would willingly sacrifice himself for the sake of the nation. He was not one to show his pain easily. Moreover, Hwaun feared that in Ihan’s confusion from the memory loss, some personal care might have been overlooked.

“I know you are busy with state affairs, but you must always prioritize your health above all else.”

Every single word from Hwaun was soaked in deep affection and concern—so much so that even the wary Ihan could feel it. Ihan did not like this.

“Is that what you are worried about right now?”

“…Pardon?”

“Your own position is on the edge of a cliff, yet you are worrying about me?”

Yeon Hwaun was still kneeling on the floor because the Emperor had not yet granted him permission to rise. Despite this, Hwaun acted as if it were nothing, focusing solely on the Emperor’s well-being. Ihan wondered if this was truly the same Yeon Hwaun he knew—the one who used his own frailty as a tool for attention. The old Hwaun would have already been lamenting his pain to gain sympathy.

But Hwaun answered without being deterred: “How could my safety even be compared to Your Majesty’s health?”

“Sigh…”

Ihan let out a sigh despite himself. He hated Hwaun’s behavior, yet since Hwaun hadn’t actually done anything wrong, he couldn’t find a reason to be angry. He couldn’t exactly scold someone for being too polite.

“…Rise.”

Ihan finally gave in. Truthfully, he had intended to keep him kneeling until he left, just to see how long Hwaun could maintain this “act.” But seeing him kneeling so steadfastly despite looking like he might collapse at any moment made it difficult to watch. Above all, Ihan’s own heart felt uneasy—as if he were committing a sin.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Despite the humiliating treatment, Hwaun rose politely. It was in that moment that his body swayed.

“……!”

The combination of the freezing night, overexerting himself with the sword, and the tension of kneeling for so long triggered a wave of dizziness.

But the Emperor’s reaction was even more shocking. Before Hwaun could fall, Ihan—who had been sitting in his chair—moved like a flash of lightning to catch him.

“Are you alright?”

The words tumbled out before Ihan even realized what he was doing. The arm wrapped around Hwaun’s waist, the eyes meeting his up close, the tone of his voice—it was all so natural that for a split second, the dissonance vanished.

“Your Majesty…?”

Hwaun looked up at the Emperor with a trembling gaze, unable to speak. Wrapped in Ihan’s embrace, he felt the familiar scent and the steady heartbeat. A longing so intense it felt like he might burst into tears consumed him. He wanted to stay in this embrace. He wanted to cry out that he was terrified of losing him.

“Wh-what do you think you’re doing!”

The dream-like moment vanished instantly. Realizing what he had done, Ihan pushed Hwaun away—hard. Still dizzy, Hwaun couldn’t keep his balance and fell to the floor.

“You… you purposefully…!”

Ihan stammered, unusually flustered. It was his own fault. Hwaun had done nothing; he had simply stumbled. It was Ihan who had lunged forward to hold him, and Ihan who had thrown him back. Looking at Hwaun sitting on the floor with a dazed expression, Ihan felt like crawling into a hole.

Even if Hwaun had committed many sins in the past, he hadn’t done anything tonight. This was just a sudden, late-night intrusion and harassment by the Emperor himself.

“I am leaving.”

Ihan did not apologize, nor did he help Hwaun up. He turned away. This wasn’t like him. No matter how much he disliked someone, he was an Emperor who took responsibility for his actions, but today, he couldn’t. He walked toward the door as if he were running away. He should never have come here. Instead of resolving his doubts, he was leaving with even more.

Just as he was about to step out, he heard Hwaun’s voice behind him.

“Return safely, Your Majesty.”

There wasn’t a single grain of resentment in that voice. It was that lack of anger that terrified Ihan. He was scared of the part of himself that felt Hwaun was precious. He left Jeong-an Palace without looking back.

If my memory never returns, will he remain like this? With what certainty did my past self trust this man so much? Current Ihan had no answers.

“Are you outside?”

In the deep dawn, as the darkness began to thin, Ihan—who hadn’t slept a wink—spoke toward the door.

“Your Majesty, are you still awake?”

Eunuch Oh entered quickly, as if he had been waiting for the call. His face was full of worry. Ihan sat on the edge of his bed and looked at the old man bowing before him. Sensing the Emperor’s turmoil, Eunuch Oh spoke first.

“Your Majesty, do you still find it impossible to trust the Noble Consort?”

“…….”

“Can you not trust me, who has served you all your life? Or the Empress? Or the Consorts of Wunhwa and Jinnyeong?”

Each word pierced Ihan. His most loyal servant was essentially asking: Don’t you already know the answer?

Ihan sighed deeply. “I know. I know that… but…”

“…….”

“Then tell me this. I have become an Emperor who abandoned his lifelong convictions for one person, and a son who forgot the suffering of the Queen Mother…”

“Your Majesty, please retract those words! They are too heavy to bear.”

Eunuch Oh prostrated himself. Ihan continued: “If that is so, is this memory loss not a chance for me to return to the ‘Righteous Path’ of an Emperor?”

Eunuch Oh closed his eyes tightly. The Emperor’s logic was sound. Having watched him fight his own desires for years, Oh knew this internal conflict was justified. This was why he was a good ruler—because he constantly questioned himself, fearing he might lead the nation astray for personal reasons.

But Eunuch Oh also saw the pain hidden beneath the crown. He saw the tears, the despair, and the self-inflicted wounds that no one else was allowed to see. The Emperor had pushed away his lover for years for the same reasons he was using now, and only after finally embracing him had he found happiness as a human being, not just a ruler.

“Your Majesty…”

Eunuch Oh spoke with a heart that felt like it was bleeding. “You are the one who guarded most fiercely against concubines gaining power. You hated the idea of an Emperor showing private favoritism above all else.”

“Yes. Then why did I…?”

“Your Majesty, do you not think your past self wrestled with that exact same question?”

Ihan looked up at the kneeling eunuch.

“I saw how much you agonized. I saw how much you hurt while trying to cast those feelings aside. If the Noble Consort had even the slightest potential to cause friction in the court, if he posed even a fingernail’s worth of a threat to the Empress or the stability of the nation… Your Majesty…”

Eunuch Oh knew Seong Ihan. And Seong Ihan knew himself.

“If that were the case, even if you loved him, would you have ever raised him to the rank of Noble Consort?”

No. Ihan knew he wouldn’t. If Hwaun were a threat, Ihan would have carved out his own heart to kill the feelings before they bloomed. To announce his love and promote Hwaun required a certainty that was absolute.

“It is alright if you do not trust me. It is alright if you do not trust the Empress or the Consort.”

“…….”

“But you can at least… trust yourself. Because you are that kind of person.”

Mulling over these words, Ihan turned to look out the window. The darkness was finally beginning to fade.