Chapter 73: The Roots of Hatred

It was during the height of the war when Sirak returned to the capital.

A few years earlier, he had lost his mother at the border and could no longer live in a village that had been turned into a wasteland.

After wandering wherever his feet led him, he eventually found himself heading toward Hanseong, the capital city.

Left entirely alone, Sirak moved from tavern to tavern, playing the zither his mother had left him to earn travel expenses.

Since they were small pubs rather than established gisaeng houses, the quality of the customers was poor.

As an Eumin with a small stature, being provoked by drunks or harassed by thugs was a daily occurrence for Sirak.

From that time on, he had spread his legs countless times for a few coins—to avoid a fist, or because he did not want to die by a threatening blade.

Even those who blustered about killing him if he did not submit would act as if they were someone important the moment Sirak obediently offered his buttocks.

Some stepped forward claiming they would act as his husband, while others acted superior by tossing him a few extra coins.

Sirak endured such things until he finally managed to reach Hanseong.

He went straight to an old acquaintance of his mother, whom he had heard of a few times as a child, and became a musician in the gisaeng house she operated.

There, while dealing with drunken high-ranking officials every day, he learned the ways of handling men.

To open his eyes at an angle and smile like the gisaengs, or to tease a man by feigning interest and then pulling away—honestly, it was not difficult at all.

He assumed he would live like this until he became someone’s concubine like his mother, or remained in the gisaeng house until he died of old age.

He lived without much thought.

He simply held a small hope of saving enough money to buy a small house once he was too old and lacked the strength to pluck the strings.

He had no particular complaints about living that way.

Whether it was a case of a trade learned through observation, or a case of “like mother, like son,” he found playing the zither enjoyable in its own way, and he did not particularly dislike dealing with people.

However, there were times when he would wake up gasping from a bone-chilling nightmare after falling asleep alone.

At those times, Sirak would clutch his quilt and wail, his mind blurred between the boundaries of the dream and reality.

‘Sirak-ah… Shh, you must not make a sound….’

The voice of his mother whispering while embracing him would linger in his ears throughout the long night, making him feel as though life was not worth living.

After those dreams, the sensation of his mother’s blood soaking his body with its lukewarm touch felt incredibly vivid.

When scratching his skin frantically was not enough, he would run to the well in the dawn and pull up the bucket.

Only after drenching his entire body in freezing water did he feel somewhat sane.

It was around that time that he met the Minister of Rites.

Sirak was twenty-one then.

It was only a bit later that he realized the old man, who had come to hear Sirak’s now-famous playing, might be his biological grandfather.

One day, after frequenting the house to listen to the zither for a while, the old man—thoroughly intoxicated—grabbed Sirak’s hand.

Reeking of alcohol and babbling apologies, he revealed the truth of Sirak’s birth.

‘I should have just ignored it and brought your mother in when the eldest boy coveted her.’

‘I did not know he would be so persistent.’

‘When I heard he had kidnapped a woman who hadn’t even taken off her mourning clothes and hid her from my sight for months, I wanted to wring his neck.’

Before Sirak’s mother had escaped from the hands of the Minister’s eldest son, Yun Se-chang, she was already pregnant with Sirak.

Sirak let the Minister’s babbling about how much he must have suffered drift through one ear and out the other.

The father who had died when he was young was not his biological father.

Recalling the father who had been quite tender despite his taciturn nature, Sirak felt an overwhelming sense of guilt toward him.

It was simply a bit sorrowful to hear that he was not that man’s child.

The Minister of Rites continued his drunken monologue for a long time, but Sirak only smiled quietly.

Knowing that Sirak was the seed of his own son, yet leaving him in a gisaeng house for months while only visiting to hear him play—was the true intent of this man who claimed to be his grandfather not perfectly obvious?

Sirak acted as though he had heard nothing of that day’s story and continued to treat the Minister of Rites merely as a customer.

That was, until the news of the current Emperor’s victories—back when he was still a mere prince—shook the very foundations of Hanseong.

The day he heard that news, Sirak had the dream he hadn’t seen for a while once again.

The scene of soldiers on horseback wielding swords and setting fire to the village was vividly revived.

The voice of his dying mother and her rapidly cooling body were the same.

The sight of the crimson flag, the symbol of Yeoran, fluttering in the sky came back clearly.

So did that handsome face watching indifferently from atop a massive black horse, and the title “His Highness the Prince” he had heard while lying prostrate under his mother, pretending to be dead.

****

The Emperor returned to the Great Hall much faster than expected.

Haeryeong thought he would only return by dinner, but he appeared suddenly less than half a sijin after Haeryeong had entered the private sanctum.

The first sound the Emperor made as he threw the doors open without a word was a hollow laugh.

“I told you to rest comfortably, so why are you standing here alone as if enduring a punishment I never gave?”

Haeryeong, who had turned around with startled eyes at the sudden opening of the door, hurried to bend his knees.

“Have you returned, Your Majesty?”

The Emperor reached Haeryeong’s side in just two strides.

“I saw you this morning; what is the need for such formality?”

Haeryeong wore a troubled expression at the man’s scolding as he personally helped him up.

“Is it not proper etiquette to show respect even if we had met just a moment ago?”

“Furthermore, Your Majesty is the supreme ruler above all; how could I neglect my manners?”

“I would rather die than deal with this.”

The Emperor shook his head with an air of resignation and brought his nose to the nape of Haeryeong’s neck.

“Your scent has grown quite thick, but it seems your body is still holding up well.”

“I wonder if you can last until dinner.”

“The heat cycle will likely not begin until tomorrow.”

Since he was only feeling a slight fever, Haeryeong answered as such, prompting the Emperor to let out a mischievous laugh as he scooped him up.

“Are you not just pretending to endure it again, like last time?”

Haeryeong obediently wrapped his arms around the man’s neck.

In an instant, a strange light flickered in the Emperor’s eyes.

“You really have grown quite accustomed to this.”

“Every time I held you before, your body would go stiff as a board, as if I were carrying a log.”

‘Indeed.’

‘Since we face each other every day and fall asleep in each other’s arms, it would be stranger if I didn’t get used to it.’

“Since I have caused Your Majesty concern, I am simply overwhelmed with apology.”

The Emperor approached the bed, gently swaying his body as if coaxing the Haeryeong he held.

After setting him down softly upon the silk bedding, he reached for Haeryeong’s hair.

“You are beautiful, but it looks uncomfortable for resting, so I shall let your hair down.”

“Rest a while longer, and I shall return once I have finished my work in a hurry. We shall have dinner together, even if it is a bit late.”

‘Did he not come back because his work was finished?’

As Haeryeong stared up at him, the Emperor chuckled, pulled out the hairpin, and removed the crown.

“Did you… leave your state affairs behind to come here?”

“I heard you were standing guard in my private sanctum, so I rushed over to see.”

“…I am ashamed.”

The Emperor uncoiled the hair and brushed through it with his fingers before reaching for Haeryeong’s belt.

“What was so uncomfortable about your husband’s quarters? I heard you were standing there unable to do anything, and I come to find you truly were just standing there.”

“Your servant was merely… looking around out of curiosity.”

Having unfastened the belt and laid it aside, the Emperor now untied the sash of his long robe.

The three layers of clothing fell from Haeryeong’s shoulders all at once, cascading silently onto the bed.

“A room is just a room; what could there possibly be to find curious? So, tell me, what were your impressions after looking around?”

The Emperor lifted Haeryeong again to place him on the inner side of the bed and tossed the clothes that had been beneath him off the side.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the Emperor pulled back the neatly spread quilt and urged for an answer with his eyes.

“I felt the room was far too dark.”

“Dark?”

A moment passed as Haeryeong chose his words.

Since he could not repeat the thoughts he’d had earlier, he found he had nowhere to settle his gaze as he deliberated.

“It is so different from the Empress’s Palace that I felt a bit frightened. Even though the sun has not yet set, almost no light enters…”

“I suppose I should have ordered the candles lit. I told Head Court Lady Hwang to attend to you well, but it seems she lacked intuition.”

Fearing the Emperor might unnecessarily harm the Head Court Lady, Haeryeong hurried to take her side.

“Head Court Lady Hwang is not at fault. I dismissed the servants because I wished to be at peace, so please do not be too angry.”

The Emperor stared at Haeryeong before letting out a faint smile.

“Covering for the faults of subordinates is not always the best path. Humans are prone to becoming arrogant the moment you treat them kindly, so you must scold them when there is cause for it.”

The Emperor pushed Haeryeong under the quilt and patted the bed as if telling him to lie down.

As Haeryeong lay back, the Emperor pulled the covers up to his neck and muttered in a low, sinister tone.

“To leave you in such uncomfortable attire and without a single light in the room… I shall have a stern word with Head Court Lady Hwang.”

“The Empress should not worry and simply close your eyes for a while.”

“Your grace is boundless, but Your Majesty… dinner is not far off…”

Dinner in the Imperial Palace was served much earlier than in private households.

With less than an hour remaining, he was being told to sleep.

Haeryeong, who did not usually take afternoon naps, looked up at the Emperor with wide-awake eyes.

“Sleep nonetheless. I returned in the middle of reviewing the edicts to be issued to the officials tomorrow, so the dinner table will be a bit late.”

‘Even though it wasn’t particularly urgent, he set aside such important matters to come here?’

Haeryeong was at a loss for words, simply bewildered by the man’s change.

‘How can you act as sweet as taffy in one’s mouth?’

“By ‘edicts,’ do you mean regarding the matter of the Minister of Public Works and the High General?”

“I intend to fill the vacancies and conclude the audit of the remaining ministries during your heat cycle.”

Haeryeong sat up and peered into the Emperor’s face.

The man who was said to be so enraged by the disobedience of the two ministries now appeared perfectly serene.

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