Sa Ha-hyeon made not a sound as he crept to the door and eased it open just a crack. The moment he peered out, he caught a glimpse of a black shadow darting swiftly past the wall and disappearing. The movement was so fast it could easily have passed for a large cat.
That was no ordinary skill. For someone like that to be visiting Byeoksong Palace in the dead of night — their intentions could hardly be good.
Ha-hyeon quickly turned and headed toward the separate quarters where Wol and the young maidservants slept. Holding his breath, he eased the door open slightly and looked inside.
Breathe in, breathe out —
Wol and the girls were fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the world. He quietly shut the door so as not to wake them, then checked outside. There were no suspicious presences or signs of intrusion. The sigh of relief lasted only a moment before his suspicion deepened even further.
So the target really was me.
If he tried to think of who might have sent an assassin, the only person who came to mind — besides Consort Hwa, whom he had never even seen face to face — was no one else. Someone who had tormented Wol so cruelly wouldn’t be surprising at all for sending an assassin to a rival concubine’s quarters.
Perhaps Consort Hwa had her finger on every pulse of the palace — its news and the Emperor’s movements. Otherwise, she couldn’t have timed it this perfectly. She had been lying low and biding her time, and now she had chosen this very moment when the Emperor’s visits had suddenly stopped.
“That’s infuriating.”
Before going back inside, he scanned his surroundings for any traces or traps the assassin might have left behind. Sure enough, something small, white, and square caught his eye tucked between the window frame.
A note. Ha-hyeon checked once more that no one was watching him from the darkness, then snatched the paper and returned to his bedchamber.
Rather than unfolding it right away, he held the paper up to the light of the oil lamp first. There was always the chance that a fine poison needle or some foul powder might be concealed within the paper’s folds. It was a technique he had learned in the first year of possessing the assassin’s body.
Fortunately, the paper was clean.
I hope you have been keeping well. We will meet again soon.
The moment he read those two brief lines, his heart leapt. The only person in this world, besides Sa Ha-hyeon himself, who knew Hangul.
Ha-hyeon folded the note and tucked it deep inside his chest. Hope hasn’t disappeared yet.
***
Time flew like an arrow, and at last the day of the imperial Winter Hunt arrived. From before dawn had even broken, Byeoksong Palace was a battlefield. Half-asleep, Ha-hyeon was dragged by Wol and the maidservants and firmly seated in front of the dressing table.
“W-Wol! I — I can’t breathe!”
“Bear with it just a little longer, my lady! I need to bring out your waist more!”
Wol cinched Ha-hyeon’s sash with the merciless efficiency of a sadistic torturer. His stomach and back felt like they were about to meet each other.
The ordeal didn’t end there. The makeup today was inexplicably heavier than usual — he had no idea how many layers of powder were being applied to his face. Every time Ha-hyeon opened his mouth he felt like powder might flutter off. Something had gotten into his eyes too; they felt gritty and irritated.
“Now, I’ll do your hair. Hold your head straight.”
Wol skillfully twisted Ha-hyeon’s hair up and began jabbing jeweled ornamental pins and hairpieces into it one after another without mercy.
“Take at least two out. This is too heavy.”
“Absolutely not.”
His head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. At this rate, he might turn into a turtle before even reaching the hunting grounds. Whether Ha-hyeon looked miserable or not, Wol was powdering the back of his neck with a satisfied murmur.
“Be grateful that you have no body hair, my lady.”
“Hm?”
“If you had a lot of body hair, think how much trouble it would have been every morning to remove it all. And your skin is this smooth — you’re extremely fortunate.”
“I don’t exactly feel fortunate about it.”
Ha-hyeon smiled awkwardly and let it pass. Women might prefer smooth, flawless skin, but for Ha-hyeon it was different. If anything, it was closer to a deep complex. Everyone else had a full forest going, and he alone was as smooth as a bare plain without a single blade of grass — that was quite an embarrassing thing.
Whatever his inner feelings, Wol and the maidservants moved busily. After the storm of preparations came to an end, Wol held up a mirror.
“There — take a look!”
“What? Is that really me?!”
Ha-hyeon’s jaw dropped the moment he saw the mirror. A face that outshone even the elaborate ornaments, crimson-painted lips and an enigmatic gaze — it all looked like something that could bewitch a person.
“Keep your eyes half-open. Like this — heavy-lidded.”
“Wol, you should go into business.”
If making a profession of helping women with their appearance, she’d make far more money far faster than selling firewood.
“You are truly beautiful, my lady!”
The young maidservants clasped their hands together, eyes sparkling.
“This won’t do. The moment you return from today’s hunt, I’m calling for a portrait painter!”
“A portrait painter? Why?”
“We must have a portrait made to preserve this! My lady’s beauty today must be recorded in history!”
“Absolutely do not call one!”
***
The palace square where the procession for the Winter Hunt was assembled was nothing short of spectacular. A row of magnificently adorned carriages stood lined up, ready to carry the ten concubines who had been selected to accompany the Emperor.
Ha-hyeon was walking toward the carriages with Wol’s support when he stopped short.
“……Incredible.”
A breath of air escaped Ha-hyeon’s lips as he looked around. No matter how much Wol had poured her soul into his makeup and dressed him in silk, he felt certain he could never match the bearing of those who had been born women from the start.
They were like butterflies or flowers that had descended from the heavens, or elegant cranes. From the way they moved their fingertips to the graceful line with which they stepped into their carriages — every motion overflowed with elegance and refinement. Ha-hyeon stared at the sight, struck speechless.
“My lady, please board the carriage quickly.”
“Right.”
Even after sitting in the carriage, Ha-hyeon couldn’t stop marveling. Despite it being winter, the air was heavy with the scent of flowers. How could the Emperor have concubines this beautiful and still not have taken a single official wife? It was utterly beyond comprehension.
Ha-hyeon’s gaze, roaming over the concubines, came to a stop on one figure.
Standing in the flower garden was a single incongruous tree. She wore an elaborate wig and had rouge dotted on her cheeks, and yet — she had broad shoulders and a thick neck.
What is that? That’s a big guy.
Even without stripping away the clothes, Ha-hyeon could tell he was a man. A strange sense of kinship made it impossible to look away. It seemed Wol felt the same — her gaze was also fixed on that cross-dressed concubine.
Ha-hyeon leaned slightly toward Wol and whispered.
“Wol. That one over there looks like they’re in the same field as me, don’t they?”
Wol answered in a voice barely above a murmur.
“That is Consort Hwa.”
“What?!”
His head spun. That hulking figure was Consort Hwa. Consort Hwa’s build was so impressive that even Sa Ha-hyeon, who was solidly built himself, had to gulp. How terrifying must it have been for petite little Wol? Ha-hyeon wrapped his arm around Wol’s slender shoulders.
That said — if Consort Hwa has the highest rank among the concubines……. The Emperor really was gay. Wei Wuyuan, you! Now I finally understand why the elder ministers of the imperial court have been sick with worry over the matter of succession. If every field you try to sow is a field of gravel, of course nothing’s going to sprout!
Unlike Ha-hyeon, who was busy marveling at Consort Hwa’s impressive build, Wol was trembling just at the sight of Consort Hwa from a distance.
“It’s alright. I’m here — what is there to be afraid of?”
That was precisely the moment. The crowd’s murmuring died down, and the Emperor made his appearance.
Wei Wuyuan atop his snow-white horse was, quite simply, a being that seemed to belong to a higher realm. His skin was flawless and translucent as freshly fallen snow, his dark brows drawn as though painted on with a brush, and beneath them eyes that sparkled as though set with stars. His features were so perfectly proportioned they bordered on the unreal — even from a distance, the sight of him was enough to steal Ha-hyeon’s breath.
For the hunt, the Emperor was dressed differently from his usual attire — in clothing that traced the lines of his body. On deep blue-black silk, a dragon embroidered in silver thread gleamed brilliantly. Draped over his shoulders was a lush fur of some glossy black beast. That wild ensemble formed a strangely captivating contrast against the Emperor’s usually immaculate formal robes and his impossibly beautiful face.
Ha-hyeon was staring in open admiration when it happened. Wei Wuyuan’s gaze, sweeping idly over the vast crowd, landed directly on Sa Ha-hyeon.
But the Emperor’s expression was not a pleasant one. His eyes slid briefly past Ha-hyeon’s face and fixed themselves on the arm Ha-hyeon had wrapped around Wol. Those luminous eyes were glaring as if they might sever Ha-hyeon’s arm from his body at any moment.
Yeong-ui. Remove that hand. Now.
It came through without a single word being spoken.
Oh, come on — I’m just comforting her because she’s scared, like a little sibling! Why are you glaring at me again!
