Chapter 67
Originally, Wongyeong had been the pillar of the So family. Not only had he learned to read earlier than others, but he had also shown brilliance in many areas since childhood, bearing the expectations of the entire household. He was the one and only hope who could fulfill the aspirations and ambitions of the So family, which had held official positions for generations but never secured crucial posts.
However, after Yun-seo was selected, his father revered him as if he were the hero destined to save the So family. Even when Wongyeong passed the civil service examination, his father regarded it as an expected outcome, simply waiting impatiently for Yun-seo to bloom.
What was so special about being worthy of becoming Empress? If anything, becoming imperial in-laws would certainly invite scrutiny from all sides. Ministers would be vigilant to prevent Yeong Chunhwa from wielding Yongson power using their Suhoseong as a weapon, and above all, the current Emperor was absolutely not someone who would empower the imperial in-laws by yielding to a Yeong Chunhwa. If anything, he would suppress them.
Yet somehow his father harbored foolish fantasies. Since Yun-seo’s selection, he had been desperately trying to expand the authority of Yeong Chunhwa without raising a single objection to the Emperor’s policies, as if he would lick the Emperor’s feet. His behavior was as shameful as a dog wagging its tail.
After Yun-seo’s *promotion, his father believed that Yun-seo would be the rope that would pull the So family to the highest position, but Wongyeong was convinced that his own slow advancement was entirely Yun-seo’s fault. It was plainly obvious that even his superiors and colleagues were now wary of him—so who exactly was the So family standing upon now?
“I understand Father’s caring heart for his inadequate son, but I worry the world’s perception will differ. I believe it would benefit our family more if my wise brother could enlighten Father about the proper direction.”
“In essence, you’re asking me to tell Father to exercise restraint.”
Yun-seo didn’t readily answer, but he didn’t deny it either. Wongyeong was infuriated to think that this fellow now considered him a mere errand boy. His anger boiled repeatedly until it ultimately transformed into its opposite—a chilling coldness—causing his expression to grow icy.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you told him directly?”
“That is…”
“Your Majesty should at least know how to do one thing on your own.”
Wongyeong trembled with rage at the unfairness of this world. What exactly had Yongrim and Yeong Chunhwa earned through their own power? They hadn’t made any effort whatsoever.
Those who had never devoted themselves to scholarship, shedding blood and tears day and night to rise higher, those who were merely “chosen” by chance, held greater glory in their hands than those who had honed themselves through diligence—and they acted as if this were only natural.
And this person, who couldn’t even be grateful for that, who had fled despite risking the beheading of his family members, was now what? Afraid of public opinion? He was probably just afraid his own reputation would plummet.
Even cunning foxes would be better, at least they were honest. Better than someone wearing the disguise of a docile sheep while trying to keep even a speck of dust off himself.
“If that’s all you have to say, I’ll take my leave now.”
Wongyeong didn’t listen further. He rose from his seat, bowed his head, and turned around. He was about to take a step when:
“Brother. Why do you dislike me so much?”
Turning back, he saw Yun-seo looking at him with eyes like an abandoned child. In that appearance, he saw overlapping images of the child who, despite being dejected whenever Wongyeong treated him dismissively out of annoyance, had stubbornly remained by his side.
“This subject has never disliked Your Majesty. That’s an unwarranted statement.”
Who would hate a mere pebble placed in a garden? Wongyeong was disgusted by that naive selfishness that positioned himself as an unconditional victim while placing blame on others.
After speaking firmly, Wongyeong quickly moved away to avoid being held back again. Only when he left the inner palace completely and familiar pavilions came into view could he finally catch his breath.
The more he reflected on his conversation with Yun-seo, the more his throat seemed to tighten, making his official robes increasingly uncomfortable. If not for the Imperial Palace, he would have snapped at him to bring him to his senses, and he regretted that he no longer had that opportunity.
As Wongyeong was hurrying along, exhaling angry breaths, a figure blocked his path. When he raised his head in irritation, his eyes widened.
* * *
“Yeondeok…”
Yun-seo habitually started to call for Yeondeok but stopped himself. Today was Yeondeok’s day off. Yun-seo had deliberately summoned Wongyeong on Yeondeok’s rest day to prevent them from encountering each other. Although Wongyeong didn’t mistreat Yeondeok, there was no reason for Yeondeok to be subjected to contemptuous glances.
After realizing Yeondeok’s absence, Yun-seo felt even more dejected. He stared blankly into space like someone standing at a crossroads without knowing his destination, then soon came to his senses.
“Is Wan here?”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Seeing Wan scurrying in like a squirrel as soon as he called made the corners of his mouth lift without effort.
“I want to do some writing. Could you prepare for me?”
“Yes, of course.”
Wan diligently arranged the writing materials. Though he hadn’t asked, she stood beside him grinding the ink stick, so Yun-seo pulled up a chair for her to sit.
“Here, sit down while you work.”
“Oh, if you do this…”
“There’s no one around, so what does it matter?”
When Yun-seo encouraged her in an informal tone, Wan briefly examined his face before carefully taking a seat. Only then did Yun-seo feel at ease enough to pick up the brush.
Calligraphy practice helped calm his noisy mind. Wondering what characters to write, Yun-seo realized he hadn’t heard his own name in recent times and decided to write his name characters.
「倫瑞」(Yun-seo)
When he was born, his father was so delighted that he named him with characters meaning “ethics” and “auspicious,” signifying that he should observe proper principles. Yun-seo looked down at the characters on the paper with a hollow, bitter feeling. Though there might have been joy at the moment of his birth, it seemed that alone hadn’t been enough. Probably so.
To escape the emotions trying to drag him down, he considered writing Hwi’s name next, but refrained from casually writing the Emperor’s personal name. Yun-seo gazed absently at the blank space on the paper before writing different characters.
「塗 途 涂」(Do)
These were the characters he had thought were Hwi’s surname. Looking at them now, they resembled Hwi’s real surname, Seo (徐). Yun-seo was consumed by thoughts of whether Hwi had spontaneously chosen a character similar to his real surname, or if he was mocking Yun-seo for failing to recognize the Emperor standing right before him.
“Your Majesty, are you troubled?”
When a drop of ink dangling from the brush tip fell and soaked the paper, Wan cautiously asked. Only then did Yun-seo realize he had been trapped in dark thoughts and shook his head.
“Do I appear so?”
“Even if Deputy Minister So is Your Majesty’s brother, he shouldn’t disturb Your Majesty’s peace of mind.”
At Wan’s straightforward comment, Yun-seo simply smiled and asked:
“Wan, do you have siblings?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I think you would have been a good sibling. You must have been separated from your family when you entered the palace. Are you having any difficulties?”
“Although I miss my family, thinking of them helps me endure palace life well. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my family.”
Yun-seo’s hand paused as he was about to dip the brush in ink. He glanced at Wan, then resumed his movement, immersing the brush in the ink.
“Your devotion to your family is admirable, and though I don’t know your full circumstances, I hope you think of yourself as much as you think of them.”
“May I ask what you mean?”
“You’re still young… and you have your own life. Perhaps this sounds like idle talk from someone in a privileged position, but I hope you can possess at least one thing that you truly desire.”
This time, he wrote ordinary characters: “way” (道), “joy” (喜), “benevolence” (仁), and “wish” (願).
All the while, Wan remained silent. Perhaps she had objections but couldn’t contradict her superior, or maybe she didn’t yet understand his meaning, or perhaps she understood but was contemplating the unchangeable reality.
Yun-seo wondered if he had spoken out of turn, but he hoped that Wan wouldn’t be too burdened by the weight on her shoulders in the future. Perhaps this too was his own selfishness—not for her sake, but for his.
Reflecting on his own thoughts, he felt sorry for meddling. As he changed the paper and glanced over, he noticed her tracing her thumbnail with her index finger before flicking it repeatedly. Seeing her seemingly impatient gestures, Yun-seo spoke up.
“Do you have something to say?”
“Pardon?”
“You can’t keep your hands still.”
When Yun-seo pointed this out with a smile, Wan belatedly realized her behavior and quickly hid her hands behind her back.
“Ah, it’s not that… Actually, I don’t know writing well, so I can’t even write my own name.”
Surprised by this unexpected change of topic, Yun-seo turned to face Wan directly.
“Your calligraphy is so beautiful, Your Majesty. If you wrote my name, I would carry it with me and memorize it. If Your Majesty bestowed your writing upon me, it would be an honor for my family.”
Wan’s face appeared unusually rigid, as if she were embarrassed, as she stared intently at the paper. Yun-seo smiled, saying that “honor” was too grand a word, and prepared his brush.
“Of course I’ll write it for you if you ask. What characters do you use?”
“Um… well…”
Not seeming to know the meaning of her name characters, Wan tilted her head and traced characters on the table with hesitation. Yun-seo observed her uncertain hand movements carefully before writing a character on the paper.
“This one?”
“Yes! That’s it!”
“Here, take it. I’ll write for you anytime, so don’t consider it such an honor.”
“How could I not consider an honor as an honor?”
Seeing Wan so delighted over a single character, Yun-seo felt his troubled heart gradually fill with warmth. While blood relatives grew distant, those without a drop of shared blood surrounded him and provided comfort. Perhaps this too was a blessing not easily obtained. Yun-seo gazed at the characters he had written with softer eyes.
*Promotion: 陞遷 (Seungcheon). Promotion.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
