Chapter 58: The First Thread Pulled

“I stopped by Jayangnu for dinner on my way back, and I suddenly became curious.”

“The proprietress mentioned she was worried because she had not heard from you.”

“Your servant feared that continued contact with a brothel would bring dishonor to Your Majesty.”

“Why would there be any dishonor?”

“Fate is a connection bestowed by the heavens, so one should not think of it so lightly.”

“Is that not so?”

“Send someone to give word that you are doing well.”

“I shall do so.”

While Sirak departed without ever lifting his face, Gangcheon stared at the crown of his head for a long while.

His actions were so preposterous that the Emperor was on the verge of letting out a hollow laugh.

The proprietress of the gisaeng house had said that after Sirak’s mother remarried, she crossed the border and gave birth to Sirak there.

He recalled the woman’s vivid expression as she described how Sirak, having lost both his mother and father, looked worse than a mangy dog when he finally returned to Hanseong.

[The father reportedly passed away when Sirak was quite young.]

[It seems he lived as a wandering musician with his mother after that…]

[I was told he returned to Hanseong around the age of seventeen after losing her as well.]

The proprietress could not remember exactly where Sirak had lived.

She only recalled the stories of him frequently crossing borders while wandering from place to place.

Gangcheon rolled his tongue inside his mouth as he stared at the door that had closed behind Sirak.

Something felt gritty against his palate, like sand.

He was curious about why the man was lying, but what intrigued him most was the reason for his return to Hanseong.

Surely it would have been much simpler to settle down where he was rather than traveling that long distance alone.

He wondered why the man had bothered to return to Hanseong, leaving his mother’s grave behind.

Seventeen.

When Sirak was that age, the war was at its height.

Could his mother have been lost in the crossfire of the conflict?

Once suspicion took root, it continued to swell in volume.

[Seok-hwan.]

Gangcheon called out to the waiting Seok-hwan via voice transmission.

[Yes, Your Majesty. Please give your command.]

[Investigate the history of the Noble Consort and his mother.]

[Go as far back as his mother’s youth if possible.]

[If she entered a household as a concubine before she even had her hair put up, there will be plenty of people in the marketplace who know the rumors.]

[Start your search there.]

[I shall dispatch Seon and Hyo.]

Gangcheon let out a chuckle at the names of the troublemakers who used to beg and pickpocket in the marketplace as children.

[Do so.]

He didn’t need to worry if it was those two, who had grown up in the streets.

Even now, if they were dressed in commoners’ clothes, they looked no different from back-alley thugs, so they would blend in well enough.

There was no concern about them drawing unnecessary attention.

[Tell them in advance to report immediately if they discover anything.]

[Yes, Your Majesty. I shall serve with all my heart.]

Simultaneously with his transmission, the Emperor called for Manchul outside the door.

“Manchul. Prepare for my departure; I am heading to the interrogation grounds.”

While the palanquin was being readied, Gangcheon quietly closed his eyes.

As he faced an important task, he wanted to focus solely on it, so he practiced slow, meditative breathing.

Whenever a crucial battle approached during the war, Gangcheon would calm his heart in this manner.

It was the same on the day news of his grandfather’s death arrived, and on the day his subordinates, sent ahead to the palace, decided to eliminate all the imperial family members.

Gangcheon always focused on what he could do.

Survival.

To achieve that, he usually had to kill someone, but it was the simplest and easiest task for him.

So what if he did?

No matter the process, Gangcheon always emerged victorious.

It was partly due to his focus on a single goal, but he was also a lucky man.

It would surely be the same this time.

****

For several days, the Imperial Palace remained in a state of unease.

Rumors spread far and wide that the Emperor was in a state of rage, and that the heads of the Ministry of War and the Ministry of Public Works were being interrogated for days on end.

Aside from the news Iryeon and the court ladies shared, Haeryeong was hearing reports from Su-yong of the Black Shadow Unit.

Every time they headed to the Imperial Stables for horsemanship training, Su-yong would volunteer information Haeryeong hadn’t even asked for.

When Haeryeong politely asked if the Emperor was faring well, Su-yong would laugh with a confident expression.

“He is a man of robust constitution; staying up for several nights poses no problem for him.”

Su-yong seemed unaware of the Emperor’s exact condition, as he spent most of his time at the Empress’s Palace lately.

It appeared the Emperor was practically living at the interrogation grounds, as he only sent word to the Empress’s Palace once every few days.

Haeryeong was just as busy.

First, officials from the Bureau of Food began frequenting his palace due to the Emperor’s command to assist with banquet preparations.

On the first day, the Director of Food, Wu Hak-seon, visited; from the following day onward, the Vice-Director, Song Yak-jeon, attended him.

Vice-Director Song Yak-jeon informed him that he had received the Emperor’s supreme command and brought several years’ worth of reports from the Bureau.

Thus, lately, Haeryeong sat across from him after lunch to examine the logs.

The seasonal rites were not much different between Yeonseo and Yeoran.

The grandest ceremonies were held during the New Year and the Mid-Autumn Festival, followed by Hansik and Dano.

Other non-periodic events included rituals for the start of spring farming or rites for rain during droughts.

Ancestral rites occurred roughly every month or two.

As he noted the records indicating that the ceremonies were centered around the Emperor and the Empress, Haeryeong suddenly became curious about the Emperor’s birth mother.

After the Vice-Director departed, Haeryeong requested tea from Iryeon.

“The weather is pleasant, so I wish to drink some refreshing cold tea.”

“Prepare the tea and bring it to the loft.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I have already received some plum-shaped crackers and cinnamon punch from the confectionery room, so I shall serve them together.”

“Do so. And if Han Su-yong is outside, tell him to join me for a cup of tea.”

“I shall do so.”

Before heading to the loft, Haeryeong donned his falconry glove to take Changcheon with him.

He was currently using the glove and hood that the Emperor had specially ordered, which had arrived two days prior.

The glove was not as crude as the ones he had used before.

It was much smaller than the previous version and far more beautiful in design.

The plain yellow leather had been replaced by a two-toned hide, finished with colorful silk fabric at the cuff.

A long gold cord was attached to a small ring at the base.

It was quite lovely, designed to connect to the leash tied to the hawk’s ankles.

Furthermore, a phoenix—the symbol of the Empress—was embroidered in gold thread upon the silk, making it even more magnificent.

What Haeryeong liked most was the reduced size and the thinner, sturdier leather.

It fit his hand perfectly, and he even felt a spark of gratitude toward the Emperor for the gift.

The Chief Eunuch’s remark that the man had been disappointed he could not deliver it personally briefly crossed his mind.

Haeryeong quickly pushed aside his thoughts of the Emperor, moved Changcheon from the perch onto his glove, and headed to the loft.

He placed the hawk on the railing and removed its hood, prompting Changcheon to bob its body and quiver its tail.

“Chang-ah. The weather is so fine; you should enjoy the breeze as well.”

The hawk, its sharp eyes wide, snapped its head around to survey its surroundings.

Whenever it flapped its wings, Haeryeong watched with bated breath, wondering if the bird wished to fly away.

‘If you want to fly, it would be alright to let you go, would it not?’

He wanted to remove the cords from its legs and the tag from its tail feathers, but even with them, the bird would likely have no trouble surviving.

That was why he occasionally removed the hood, to signal that the bird could leave whenever it chose.

As if sensing Haeryeong’s lingering attachment, Changcheon quickly folded its wings and hopped along the railing to reposition itself.

Whenever the sound of other birds reached its ears, the hawk would blink and tilt its head toward the noise.

Tilt, tilt.

Watching the bird’s head incline this way and that brought a natural smile to Haeryeong’s face.

Haeryeong toyed with the hawk’s hood, but the gold ornaments attached to it kept getting in the way, so he set it aside.

The more he looked at the ornate gear, the more foreign it felt.

Haeryeong also removed the glove and stepped closer to the railing.

“Chang-ah.”

Haeryeong whispered the hawk’s name and leaned against the railing with one arm folded.

Hearing its name, Changcheon hopped toward Haeryeong.

When he let out a small laugh, the hawk tilted its head.

Haeryeong gently stroked the hawk’s breast feathers with a finger.

Peck, peck.

Changcheon tapped at his finger with its sharp beak.

Although the bird was holding back its strength playfully, the beak was so pointed that it was quite painful.

“Stop that, it hurts.”

Though the injury was not serious, red marks appeared every time the hawk bit or pecked.

Yet, it was quite strange.

Even while feeling the stinging pain, a laugh continued to escape him.

Every time Haeryeong laughed, the hawk would stretch its neck out toward him.

He worried the bird might peck his face as it drew close, but the hawk was admirably careful not to touch its beak to his skin.

“I have often heard that hawks are intelligent, but you, Chang-i, seem to be the greatest among them.”

“How can you be so smart and lovely?”

As if understanding the praise, Changcheon gurgled and vibrated its tail.

Standing tall with its chest puffed out, the bird looked like a person acting important, causing Haeryeong to smile with crinkled eyes.

“You know, do you not? You know that I am praising you right now.”

“Ppi-i.”

As if in affirmation, the hawk bobbed its body up and down and let out a long, high-pitched cry.