Chapter 56: Amnesia Side Story 10: A Loyalty Carved in Steel

On his way to the Hall of Eternal Peace today, Ihan felt a sharp sense of dissonance upon seeing the face of a single guard standing watch at the middle gate.

Seocheon. He was a guard of commoner—even low-born—origin. Ordinarily, such a position would have been an impossible dream for someone like him. No matter how much an Emperor prioritized merit, there were inherent limits to social mobility.

Yet, Seocheon occupied that post, backed by the Emperor’s seemingly irrational favor and maintained despite countless protests from the court. This was where Ihan’s unease began.

Ihan remembered appointing him. He remembered trusting him implicitly and openly displaying that trust to the world. Every memory of their professional relationship was intact.

Save for one: The reason why he had noticed Seocheon in the first place.

There had to be a catalyst. There had to be a reason why he had plucked a low-born guard and elevated him to such a crucial position. But the memory was missing. Ihan suspected the reason was linked to Yeon Hwaun.

At first, he was furious. There it is, he thought. Proof that Yeon Hwaun interfered in state affairs. He felt a surge of indignation, wanting to scream at the evidence of his own past weakness.

But a colder logic took hold. Hwaun was the son of Yeon Ju-won, a man so powerful that no one in Anguk dared cross him. Why would the son of such a house care about a low-born man who possessed no political power? The old Hwaun was arrogant; he would have ordered a commoner’s eyes plucked out just for looking at him. Why would he lobby the Emperor to protect such a man?

Unless… Seocheon was proof that Yeon Hwaun had truly changed.

Ihan summoned Seocheon. He wanted to find a clue from the man himself before confronting Hwaun again. He knew Seocheon was stubbornly upright—inflexible to the point of causing the Emperor a headache. He was a man who spoke the truth and would gladly lay down his life for his sovereign.

“You must speak honestly,” Ihan warned, his voice cold. “Do not forget who I am, and do not forget where you stand.”

Ihan was confident he could spot any trickery. He had dealt with countless liars on his path to the throne. But Seocheon did something unexpected. Instead of speaking, he prostrated himself fully on the floor.

“Your Majesty. You opened the path for a lowly man like me and bestowed upon me more grace than I deserve. Therefore, even if my head were to roll across this floor, I must offer a sincere plea.”

“…….”

“You must not treat the Noble Consort with coldness, Your Majesty.”

“Silence! How dare you speak such insolence in the presence of the Emperor!”

Eunuch Oh was the first to react, his voice cracking with panic. For a mere guard to offer “loyal protest” was arrogant enough, but to mention the Noble Consort’s name? It was a capital offense.

“Beg for forgiveness this instant!” Eunuch Oh barked, stealing a worried glance at the Emperor. He knew why Seocheon was doing this, but if Seocheon fell victim to the Emperor’s current wrath, the guilt Ihan would feel once his memories returned would be unbearable.

Seocheon did not move. He remained pressed against the floor. It was then that Ihan slowly rose from his seat.

“Your… Your Majesty…” Eunuch Oh trembled. His master was a benevolent ruler, but he could be terrifyingly cold when provoked.

Without a word, Ihan walked to the wall, drew a decorative sword from its rack, and stepped toward the kneeling guard.

“Your Majesty! Control your anger!” Eunuch Oh cried out.

Ihan ignored him. He pressed the tip of the blade against the back of Seocheon’s neck. “Continue. Keep talking.”

Ihan applied a slight pressure. The sharp steel bit into Seocheon’s skin. It wasn’t deep, but one more inch would pierce his throat.

Seocheon didn’t even flinch. “I say this purely for Your Majesty’s sake. If the Noble Consort is hurt, you will be the one who is hurt more later. If he suffers, you will feel a pain many times greater than his.”

“So… you truly do have a connection with Yeon Hwaun.”

“This is not for the Noble Consort’s sake. This is to repay the ocean-like grace Your Majesty has bestowed upon me—a debt I cannot repay even with my life. Please… understand my heart.”

There was no lie in his voice. This was pure, desperate loyalty to the Emperor. Seocheon knew exactly how absolute Ihan’s love for Hwaun was. He knew that Ihan had looked after even Hwaun’s low-born friend just to ensure his lover wouldn’t feel lonely.

Seocheon wasn’t worried about Hwaun. Hwaun was strong; he could endure coldness. But Ihan was different. When it came to Yeon Hwaun, the Emperor was fragile and easily broken. If Hwaun suffered while Ihan was in this state, the one who would be most devastated upon remembering everything would be the Emperor himself.

Blood began to trickle down Seocheon’s neck. “If you do not regret the choice to give me this position… then please, Your Majesty… allow me to protect you.”

“Protecting me…” Ihan muttered, still holding the sword.

Seocheon was defending Yeon Hwaun, yet he claimed he was doing it for the Emperor. How was that possible? How could protecting a mere consort be the same as protecting the Emperor?

A suffocating silence filled the hall. Then, the sharp clang of the sword hitting the floor broke the tension. Eunuch Oh looked up, relieved to see Seocheon’s head still attached to his body.

“Get out,” Ihan said coldly.

“Your grace is immeasurable, Your Majesty,” Seocheon replied, retreating without another word.

Ihan slumped back into his chair, the words echoing in his mind. Protecting me…

The Empress’s advice, the loyalty of the other consorts, and now Seocheon’s desperate plea—all of them were telling him the same thing. Ihan sat there for a long time, forced to contemplate the sheer magnitude of a love he could not remember, yet which seemed to fill the entire space between heaven and earth.

“Highness, wouldn’t it be better to wait until the Emperor’s memory returns before giving this to him?”

“Why?”

“You hurt your hands several times making this… if the Emperor doesn’t appreciate it, you’ll be so heartbroken…”

Ajin’s gloomy gaze fell on the small wood carving in Hwaun’s hands. Hwaun had started working on it last month. It began with a small dagger Ihan had given him as a gift. The hilt was wooden, and the blade was only about a span long—quite modest compared to the Emperor’s usual lavish gifts.

But to Hwaun, that dagger was more precious than any jewel. Carved into the wooden hilt by the Emperor’s own hand was a single name: ‘Haun.’