The heavens must have gone mad for the emperor to appoint his own son as a consort. Has the nation truly fallen into ruin?
Ministers departing the irregular court session whispered quietly among themselves, but for a supposedly doomed country, the land was unnervingly tranquil. The sky was calm to the point of monotony, and a gentle breeze caressed the budding sprouts, blessing them. The clouds were thin and translucent, rendering the sky as clear as a pristine lake, while the crisp breeze carried no dust from the earth. Shrines across the kingdom announced a bountiful harvest year, with rumors spreading that all of this was thanks to Yeon Kang becoming the emperor's consort.
Rumors, like footless creatures, swiftly traversed the provinces. Despite initial suspicion, the good weather eventually won over the people. After all, Yeon Kang was not just anyone; the nation of Yeon itself was founded by the union of Heaven and her son. In earlier dynasties, their descendants often continued this line through close relations, making the selection somewhat acceptable to the people.
But for ministers aware of the emperor's unusual affection for Yeon Kang, doubt continued to fester.
One source of their suspicion was that the emperor had delayed Yeon Kang's marriage until the age of twenty. Whispers suggested the emperor deliberately annulled marriage proposals to keep Yeon Kang untouched, a critical condition for becoming a consort. This sentiment spread like water flowing from ear to mouth.
That Yeon Kang had never been sent to the battlefield was another point of suspicion. Some ministers even murmured that the repeated exile of consorts to cold palaces and the deaths of princes over the years were too coincidental.
“But isn’t it common for Yeon princes and princesses to die young?” a high-ranking minister coolly remarked, shutting down the conversation. “Even those who survive often face death unless chosen to be emperor. Look at His Majesty. As soon as he ascended, he eradicated his maternal relatives to the ninth degree and spared only his younger brother, King Jihong. All his other siblings were lost early on. These are coincidences, the ways of nature.”
Though silenced briefly, another minister with a twitching brow raised a different point.
“But why has His Majesty refused the castration of Yeon Kang? Male consorts must be castrated. Otherwise, what if they fall for a concubine or maidservant? What if one of them becomes pregnant? The palace would descend into chaos.”
“And everyone knows how deeply His Majesty cherishes Yeon Kang. His Majesty, indifferent to other princes, would smile broadly and rush out to greet Yeon Kang. There’s even talk of His Majesty revealing his true form to care for him.”
“If this was His Majesty’s plan from the start…”
Doubt bred further doubt, and their gazes grew heavier with suspicion. The emperor’s actions toward Yeon Kang were unlike any toward his other children—neglectful to the point of allowing their deaths, yet singularly affectionate toward this one son.
The notion that this love could transform into something so unthinkable had never crossed their minds. Indeed, no one could have foreseen an emperor loving his son in this way.
“Enough!” One official, frustrated, burst out. “This is Heaven’s decree. Who are we, mere mortals, to question Heaven’s will?”
His anger swayed other scholars, who murmured about the impropriety of doubting the divine.
But a senior official, his face flushed with frustration, spoke softly but firmly.
“Look at the Spring and Autumn Annals[1]. Look at other nations. Nowhere, in any record, does it state that a son became his father’s consort. This is unprecedented! Consanguineous marriages ended 400 years ago, and even then, they were between siblings, not parent and child. Never has there been a case where a child bore offspring, not knowing whether it was a child or a grandchild! If I were His Majesty, I would have refused outright. Why? Because it’s my child!”
His calm words gained momentum, becoming heated as he approached the climax of his argument. A hush fell over the gathering as his words lingered.
Indeed, this was an extraordinary event.
Though the nation was ruled by Heaven’s chosen consorts, it seemed strange that the emperor so readily accepted this decree. He had taken his son, seemingly without hesitation, and on that very night claimed him, planting his seed within him.
Some said that Yeon Kang’s sorrowful cries echoed beyond the walls of the palace. "Abamama, please. I beg you."
And those cries, it was said, did not cease.
Silence deepened. Those who accepted it as divine will brushed it off lightly and left, but those who could not stayed behind, gathering their heads together and feeding their doubts.
If the emperor truly loved his son in that way and intervened in the divine selection, why had Heaven remained silent? The heavens' lack of response weighed heavily on their suspicions, pressing them down.
As the court grew busy with the preparations for Yeon Kang's wedding, one minister turned his gaze toward the emperor. That day, the emperor arrived in court, visibly refreshed after ravaging Yeon Kang from the early hours of the morning. Despite being 37 years old, he appeared astonishingly youthful and graceful, almost childlike in his beauty. His captivating features seemed almost otherworldly, and his brilliant golden eyes sparkled with an allure so overwhelming that "enchanting" seemed an inadequate description.
As the emperor smiled, his delicate lips curving gently, many found themselves momentarily spellbound. But the minister quickly regained his composure and addressed the emperor.
"Your Majesty, I have a matter to inquire about."
"What is it?"
The emperor, unusually gentle that day, rested his chin on his hand and responded elegantly. The minister swallowed nervously and hesitated before speaking.
"Forgive my audacity, but it concerns His Majesty’s consort, Yeon Kang."
"If it’s audacious, then you shouldn’t speak of it," the emperor replied lightly, chuckling.
The minister faltered, momentarily lost for words, and his gaze fell to the floor. An intentional silence blanketed the court. The emperor wiped the faint smile from his lips and scanned the faces of the ministers. Among them were those with doubts, and others who remained loyal. Not all who served him were wholeheartedly devoted, after all.
Half-lidded, the emperor broke the silence.
"Speak, then. What is your request?"
The minister squeezed his eyes shut before finally opening his mouth.
"Your Majesty, His Highness Yeon Kang is of a man’s body. According to the Spring and Autumn Annals and traditional customs, there have been cases of male consorts engaging in relations with female consorts and bearing children. Given His Consort’s nature, might there be a risk that he harbors desires toward the women of the palace? Furthermore, Your Majesty, deviating from long-standing palace law is a breach of logic and tradition."
"Still harping on about castration?" the emperor replied, exasperated, clicking his tongue. He tilted his head, the cord of his hat dangling as he did so.
His lazy, half-closed eyes moved over the ministers, who were staring at him with guarded suspicion. His lips moved again, a trace of irritation now evident.
"Among the consorts of the Son of Heaven, there is one who is Yeon Kang’s mother."
The room turned pale. Some ministers gulped audibly, their discomfort impossible to hide. The emperor chuckled softly, his amusement evident as he looked at one particularly unsettled minister.
"You’re trembling already? The wedding hasn’t even happened yet."
"Your Majesty..." one minister murmured, a sigh of anguish barely concealed.
The emperor’s relaxed smile deepened as he closed his eyes. His slender fingers caressed the carved wolf head adorning the armrest of his throne. After a moment, he slowly opened his eyes, their golden depths scanning the long expanse of the hall. He spoke leisurely.
"Yeon Kang’s mother is among the Son of Heaven’s consorts. Most of my consorts are his mothers in some form. Therefore, he cannot join bodies with them. That boy cannot unite with his mother."
A dark smile spread across the emperor’s face, shadowing his words.
"Of course, he can unite with his father. Heaven ordained it so, and soon, you’ll all witness it yourselves."
"Your Majesty!" A minister’s voice rang out, trembling with disbelief. "Are you truly intending to sire children through your son? Yeon Kang is your son, and to have children through him is... against the natural order!"
The minister’s words faltered as he spoke, his face flushing deeply. Other ministers, who had also harbored doubts, glanced at each other nervously and spoke up.
"Would it not be prudent to conduct another ritual, Your Majesty? Even in the over 500-year history of Yeon, no son has ever been made a consort."
"Indeed, Your Majesty. Even Heaven can make mistakes."
The murmuring swelled, not quite reaching the roar of the marketplace but enough to unsettle the emperor’s mood. He observed his ministers, their voices rising in protest, some shouting impassioned declarations of loyalty: "How can one doubt the will of Heaven?" Yet the emperor knew that unless he uprooted the seeds of doubt himself, their loyalty would be meaningless.
These ministers were still more useful than his sons. Sons who served no purpose needed to be removed, but these men still had roles to play, at least until new talent could be selected through the imperial examinations.
A faint smile played on the emperor’s lips, and its gentle sound rippled through the hall. Ministers who had been shouting angrily and hurling accusations at one another paused, their focus drawn to him. Resting his chin on his hand, the emperor watched them with a gaze that seemed almost amused, as though their quarrels were endearing to him.
He laughed softly, and the room seemed to bloom into a garden, the tension dissolving with a single curve of his lips. The loud arguments that had filled the hall evaporated in the warmth of his radiant smile.
"Have you finished bickering?"
His voice was soft, tender, like a spring rain—gentle but carrying an undercurrent of chill that sent shivers down their spines.
"The Son of Heaven will speak now," he said, his tone brooking no dissent.
"Yes, Your Majesty," came the unanimous response as the ministers bowed their heads.
Though his voice seemed soothing, it carried a weight, a steely strength hidden beneath the surface. The emperor straightened on his throne, his gaze calm yet piercing as it swept over the gathered officials. Slowly, deliberately, he spoke.
"Is it so strange for a father to love his son this much? The Son of Heaven does not find it strange, yet it seems there are many here who do."
The word "love," so delicate and tender, sent a ripple through the ministers. They flinched, for the emperor’s "love" was not the love of a father for his child. It was the love spoken of between lovers, the yearning and affection of romance.
The emperor’s gaze softened as he continued, the warmth in his golden eyes emboldening one minister to speak.
"Your Majesty, with respect, an ordinary father would not have accepted his son becoming a consort so easily. How many fathers could bring themselves to embrace their own child in such a manner? And this is their flesh and blood."
"Heaven must have known first," the emperor replied smoothly, his words like a song. "The Son of Heaven’s love is different, and that is why Heaven bestowed my son as my consort."
His tone, so fluid and melodic, left the ministers speechless. He spoke of his son as his lover with such ease, such sincerity, that it left no room for argument. Those who had witnessed how he treated his consorts, how he had turned a blind eye to the deaths of his sons, could only remain silent in the face of his fervent gaze.
"You must understand why the Son of Heaven would be reluctant to send the child away for a marriage. It is because I love him too much. Surely, you can relate to that feeling? You, too, must have found it difficult to part with your daughters when you sent them here to serve me."
The emperor’s gaze landed on General Kim Myung-ho, who had once sent his beloved daughter to the palace, only for her to die a lonely death after giving birth. His white, bushy beard trembled as he remained silent, his grief and suspicion plain for all to see.
The emperor had deliberately singled him out, knowing that Kim Myung-ho was one of the most vocal doubters. Fixing the general with a piercing gaze, the emperor pressed on.
"At first, the Son of Heaven was like you, General. I only wanted my child to stay by my side. That was all I wished for... in the beginning."
The emperor, delving into buried memories, lowered his gaze and let out a wistful laugh before abruptly shifting his demeanor. The gentle smile faded, replaced by the cold, sharp edge of restrained fury.
"Do you think the Son of Heaven saw his son in such a way from the beginning? Speak sense!" His voice sliced through the air like a blade. "At first, I cherished my child simply as a father would. I doted on him because he was lovable. After all, I wanted him by my side always. But then..."
The emperor lowered his head and covered his mouth with his hand, stifling a laugh that only he could hear. I realized it before Heaven did, he thought. Yes, I changed the rites as I pleased. The urge to declare this openly, to toy with his ministers by flaunting his defiance, was strong. But he instead leaned on the unimpeachable shield of Heaven's will.
As long as Heaven remained his justification, no one could challenge the sanctity of his bond with his son.
Erasing the trace of mirth from his face, the emperor adopted an expression of solemn torment. He exhaled a heavy sigh, but his words rang loud and clear, piercing through the silence of the hall.
"Heaven understood before any of you did. Heaven saw how deeply I love the Consort, saw the true nature of my feelings. Ah, but rest assured."
He rose from the throne with a commanding presence, his eyes like frost as they swept over the gathered ministers. The stark hostility in his gaze sent a chill down their spines, and they clenched their teeth, struggling to meet his glare.
Seeing their silent deference, the emperor's lips curved into a languid, dazzling smile—a contrast so striking it felt almost cruel. Then, with deliberate slowness, he spoke again.
"The wedding is near. Soon, you will see for yourselves. You will witness how the Son of Heaven loves his son. How deeply, how truly, how boundlessly. On that day, your doubts will be silenced."
His voice rang out with finality, and he let out a low chuckle, breaking the oppressive silence.
"The Son of Heaven is the mandate of Heaven," he said with nonchalant finality. "Do not forget that."
With those words, the emperor turned on his heel, leaving the ministers behind as he strode out of the grand hall without hesitation, not sparing a single glance back.
[1] Like a history book