Wei Wuyuan slowly rubbed his thumb over the hard calluses embedded in Ha-hyeon’s palm. The relentless touch seemed to silently demand — can this truly be called a woman’s hand? There was no point in pulling it away now; it was already too late. Even by Ha-hyeon’s own assessment, his hands were worlds away from those of a princess who had spent her days sitting in her inner chambers doing embroidery.
“Th-that is…. This humble consort’s body has always been so frail….”
Frail, my ass.
“Frail, you say?”
“To build a healthy body, I learned martial arts.”
It was a fumbled excuse, but whether the other person would actually believe it was another matter entirely. He didn’t know for certain, but she was royalty — perhaps even a princess would learn martial arts as a matter of cultivation. Despite the cold of winter, he kept breaking into sweat.
But Wei Wuyuan drew out his philtrum in a long hum and nodded, as if he found that acceptable. Then he spoke quietly toward the door.
“You’ve turned this room into a furnace. Is that not why our Jaein is sweating like rain?”
“It will be corrected at once.”
The silence outside, which had been as still as a dead mouse, erupted into sudden commotion. Only then did Ha-hyeon abruptly realize — he had assumed he was sweating from panic, but it seemed the room’s temperature had actually been rising. There wasn’t even supposed to be firewood in this place, and yet — truly, an Emperor was an Emperor; a single word about a freezing room and firewood materialized out of nowhere.
“I-I, that is — this humble consort is fine.”
“Fine? Your earlobes are flushed red.”
The Emperor’s fingers slowly traced the curve of Ha-hyeon’s ear. Sa Ha-hyeon’s neck shrank back like a tortoise retreating into its shell.
“Well. There is no harm in a woman learning martial arts. But if you practiced enough to build calluses this deep, you must have found quite a bit of pleasure in holding a sword — so why did you not apply yourself further?”
Is this a high-pressure job interview? Sa Ha-hyeon was absolutely miserable. Why did the Emperor have so many things he was curious about when he could have just let it pass? What am I supposed to say. If she were the real princess, what would she have answered to a question like this?
“……”
Ha-hyeon’s lips moved without sound, and Wei Wuyuan continued.
“Had you done so, you might have been able to cut down in one stroke, right here and now, the very man who is your mother’s enemy.”
“How could I possibly….”
Ha-hyeon’s shoulders stiffened. Her mother’s enemy. He was playing the role of Seoran’s princess, so Wei Wuyuan — who had destroyed Seoran and driven the queen to her death — was indeed a sworn enemy by every right. But to Ha-hyeon the person, Wei Wuyuan was not an enemy at all — he was more like a youngest brother, an aching tender spot. Even during their time apart, hadn’t he occasionally found himself missing the days they had spent together, wondering whether the boy was eating enough, and praying every night that he was doing well somewhere?
Wow, damn. So this is how hard method acting is.
Ha-hyeon’s eyes wavered, unable to find their footing. He couldn’t even begin to grasp what expression he was supposed to wear at a moment like this. The killing intent of a daughter facing the man who murdered her mother? Or the desperate terror of someone standing before a tyrant who held the whole world in his grip?
Ha-hyeon’s face twitched.
“My jest was too much. As an apology — here.”
Wei Wuyuan personally lifted the wine bottle and filled Ha-hyeon’s cup. Ha-hyeon hurriedly received it with both hands.
“Your Majesty’s grace is boundless.”
Following proper etiquette, Ha-hyeon turned his head slightly to the side and covered the cup with his sleeve. Using a snap of his wrist, he knocked the drink back in one shot. He had expected it to be harsh liquor, but it was smoother and better than anticipated. No — it was, in fact, the finest thing he had ever tasted in his life.
“Ahhh——”
A heartfelt sound of appreciation escaped his lips before he could stop it. The habit from his past life of downing soju had reared its head without warning. Sa Ha-hyeon hastily clapped a hand over his mouth.
At that, Wei Wuyuan’s shoulders gave a small, quiet shake. And rather than reprimanding the discourteous concubine, he let out a quiet laugh.
“I-I am deeply sorry. This humble consort momentarily forgot all decorum and made such a graceless——”
“It’s fine. Does it not simply mean the wine is that good?”
Wei Wuyuan smiled and lifted his own cup, unhurriedly swallowing his wine. His long throat moved slowly, and the way he swept the wine remaining on his lips with his tongue — each small motion carried a grace like a scene from a film. His jet-black hair, swept and tied high, gleamed with a rich luster, and in the lamplight his profile was all sharp, fine lines — the bridge of his nose, the line of his jaw.
He grew up well. He really did.
Wei Wuyuan, fully aware of Ha-hyeon’s gaze, pretended not to notice and set down his cup at his leisure. He slowly turned his head and met Ha-hyeon’s eyes.
“From what I’ve heard, the princess — raised as a treasure beyond all price — was not only brilliant, but accomplished in calligraphy and painting, and an exceptional singer besides. Her voice in particular was said to be extraordinary. They say she would sing personally at banquets when envoys visited, and her talent was praised as the finest not only in Seoran but among all seven nations of the continent. So much so that even the orioles, jealous of the princess’s voice, ceased to visit the garden of the palace where she lived. I must hear that song for myself.”
“…Pardon?”
“Sing for me.”
Ha-hyeon’s face turned the color of ash. What kind of princess is loaded with so many talents. He could manage other things, but there was no way on earth he could produce a voice like an oriole’s. He had just barely escaped the flesh flute business, and now he was supposed to sing. He wanted no part of either. Sa Ha-hyeon’s mind spun furiously. What do I do, how do I get out of this.
“Your Majesty, this humble consort’s throat is parched and my voice isn’t coming out well. So please, a little more wine. Surely one must be a bit tipsy for the spirits to rise and the throat to open, no?”
Sa Ha-hyeon quickly snatched up the wine bottle.
“You’re saying your singing is better when you’re drunk?”
“Yes. Indeed so. And the wine is remarkably fine — on such a wonderful occasion as meeting Your Majesty for the first time, would it not be a waste to offer anything less than my best?”
Wonderful occasion, my foot. This might end up being my death anniversary. But with a face full of brass and a sweet smile plastered on, he poured wine liberally into Wei Wuyuan’s cup. The Emperor’s narrowed gaze seemed to be asking — what are you scheming?
“There’s no helping it. If that’s what it takes for the singing to come out.”
Wei Wuyuan drained his cup. He promptly refilled Ha-hyeon’s in return.
“I drank, so you must drink as well.”
“Pardon?”
Is that how it goes? Wait — what was the alcohol content of this stuff, anyway. There was certainly no such label written on a smooth ceramic vessel.
And so the bizarre drinking bout continued. Ha-hyeon refilled Wei Wuyuan’s cup at every opportunity, desperately willing him to get drunk and keel over.
But there was one thing Sa Ha-hyeon didn’t know. Wei Wuyuan was a man who had roamed battlefields drinking hard liquor like water — a seasoned drinker. Sa Ha-hyeon, on the other hand, was an assassin who had barely touched alcohol in his life.
One bottle, two bottles — the more empty bottles rolled across the floor, the brighter and sharper Wei Wuyuan’s gaze became. His upright, unwavering posture was infuriatingly composed. Meanwhile, Sa Ha-hyeon’s world was spinning like a top.
The Emperor, who was only one person, appeared to multiply into two, then three.
“When exactly does this throat of yours open up?”
“Just a little more. Just one more cup….”
“It seems you’ve already had quite enough.”
“No, I can still drink, hoo……. I can still — ugh. I’m dying.”
Whether sitting upright had become too much to manage, Ha-hyeon’s body swayed back and forth. Then he lurched badly. Sa Ha-hyeon’s head went straight into the old table. A sharp, ringing pain crashed through his skull — and then the world went black.
***
The next morning, when Sa Ha-hyeon opened his eyes while pressing a throbbing head, what greeted him was the stinging morning sunlight and, even sharper than that, Wol’s pointed glare. Wol pointed toward the wide-open window and spoke.
“Please look at that.”
In the middle of the courtyard, a mountain-like pile of firewood had been stacked up.
“What is all that?”
“They say it is a gift bestowed upon leaving by His Majesty.”
“A gift? Isn’t that just firewood? Am I still drunk?”
“You apparently told His Majesty last night that you couldn’t bear the cold, that it was miserable enough to have been sold off here without freezing on top of it too. Why on earth would you say such a thing? However cold and run-down it may be, is it not still His Majesty the Emperor’s palace?”
“……Me? That can’t be. I have no memory of saying that.”
Wol set down a basin filled with water.
“By the way — how did the flute performance go last night?”
“It didn’t happen.”
“So you weren’t found out. That’s a relief. To be honest, when I came into the room this morning, I had braced myself to collect a body.”
“What a horrible thing to say. And have you forgotten? You and I are in the same boat.”
“Even so — the fact that a pile of firewood this size was bestowed without anything even happening makes me think there might be something worth hoping for.”
Ha-hyeon, who had been scooping water from the basin to wash his face, opened his eyes wide and asked.
“Hope? What? Hope that we won’t die?”
“I have no idea how you managed to escape the tiger’s jaws alive, but consider it a stroke of luck. Word has it that His Majesty never gives a second glance to a woman he’s already taken to bed. Frankly speaking, there’s no guarantee your head stays attached the second time around either, is there? Don’t go getting your hopes up over something like imperial favor. Let’s just quietly sell off the gifted firewood piece by piece. Selling that and scraping by on the bare minimum — living as if dead — that’s the wisest course.”
“Do as you like. Ugh…. My head is splitting. Can’t you get me some honey water? Wol-ah?”
Ha-hyeon reached out a hand like a zombie, but Wol paid him no attention whatsoever. She had her gaze fixed on the pile of firewood in the courtyard, ticking off her fingers as she muttered to herself.
“Those oak logs are quite thick so the unit price will be good, and that charcoal is clearly top-grade white charcoal with low smoke — if I quietly pass it off to a noble household, we could easily get three or four silver coins for it….”
“My stomach is… urgh.”
Just as Ha-hyeon was finally about to retch — one of the eunuchs who had attended the Emperor came to find them.
“What is it? His Majesty returned to the palace last night.”
Was he here to take back the firewood? Wol asked with eyes full of wariness, and the eunuch gave a small dip of his head before speaking.
“I have come to deliver a message from His Majesty.”
“A message?”
The eunuch glanced briefly toward the interior of the room where Ha-hyeon lay sprawled across the floor, then continued in a flat, dry voice.
“His Majesty says he will visit here again in two days.”
“……Pardon?”
Wol’s mouth fell wide open. It was news shocking enough to make even Ha-hyeon, who had been plastered to the floor, bolt upright.
Wait — I thought the Emperor only did one night, that he never visited a concubine twice. That’s completely different from the rumors!
“He also had a word of instruction. He asks that the Jaein, by that time, please….”
“Please, by that time?”
The eunuch paused for a moment, as though the words were too embarrassing to voice, then said with measured propriety:
“He said to make sure to clear away the hangover completely.”
“……”
The eunuch said exactly what he had come to say and disappeared. Ha-hyeon and Wol stared blankly at each other.
“Wol-ah, what I’m hearing is: sober up and wait, I’ll see you clearheaded. Is that what you heard too?”
“It’s an opportunity. One given by the heavens, no less.”
“What do you mean?”
Wol clenched her fist with a resolute expression.
“We need to prepare. So hurry up and clear that hangover!”
“Prepare for what?!”
Wol left Ha-hyeon where he was, swept out in a flurry of skirts, and kicked the door open as she left. Alone now, Sa Ha-hyeon pressed a hand to his throbbing head and trembled with a nameless, creeping dread.
