The palace, which should always shine brightly for the emperor, day or night, was quiet and dim in Lady Yeo’s residence, as if not even a single mouse stirred. It was only when the palace maids brought her meals—breakfast, dinner, or occasional refreshments—that the sound of muffled sobs broke the stillness. The emperor’s orders had driven away her longtime servant and attendants, leaving no one to properly care for her. All anyone did was place food in front of the chamber where she lay collapsed.
In this hollow neglect, as Lady Yeo gradually wasted away, someone unexpectedly appeared who seemed to care for her genuinely. It was the Noble Consort, the mother of the one-armed prince. Known for her quiet and unassuming presence in the palace, the consort arrived adorned with her hair styled in an elaborate updo and decorated with flowers. Her face, gaunt and hollow-cheeked from not eating since the attack on King Gyeonghye, looked frail, but her eyes brimmed with energy.
Her beauty, no longer that of a fresh blossom, now exuded the elegance of maturity. She carried an air so captivating that even passing maids could not tear their eyes away.
After dismissing her usual entourage of eunuchs and attendants, the consort sat quietly in a small annex attached to the palace, rolling prayer beads in her hands. These beads, once used to pray for her son’s glory, now served a different purpose: they carried prayers for his safety and survival.
"If my son cannot become emperor, then neither should yours. No one’s son should take the throne or make a queen."
If her son couldn’t have it, no one else should either. She no longer cared who would inherit the throne, nor about the safety of the nation or its people. If her son couldn’t rise, everything should be destroyed. That, at least, would be fair.
Her son’s left cheek was scarred, his arm severed, and his mind fractured. Meanwhile, the emperor was happy, and Kang, nestled in his embrace, turned peach-colored with delight as he wept.
"They all need to die. That position belonged to my son, and the Empress Dowager’s title should have been mine."
Her eyes narrowed sharply as she clenched the prayer beads tightly, to the point that they threatened to snap.
As her anger and hatred for Kang and Lady Yeo simmered, she saw Lady Yeo’s palanquin approach in the distance. Weak from lack of food and strength, Lady Yeo seemed unable to walk and slumped lifelessly in the palanquin. Yet, it was clear that the eunuchs were taking great care of her now that her son had become the emperor’s favorite. The sight of Lady Yeo weeping in her chambers, oblivious to her own fortune, made the consort sneer inwardly as she composed her expression and hid her face behind a sleeve.
With a carefully crafted look of pity, the consort lifted her skirts and ran toward Lady Yeo, adopting the demeanor of a fellow mother sharing her sorrow.
"Are you alright?"
"Your Highness..."
Lady Yeo, leaning against the side of the palanquin, called out weakly, her face filled with pain. When the consort extended her hand, Lady Yeo hesitated. Her eyes, although dim, were filled with suspicion. She had spent many years in the palace and was no longer the naive girl she once had been.
After a moment of hesitation, Lady Yeo finally took her hand and slowly stood. Her small, frail body wavered as if she might collapse at any moment, her strength sapped by days of barely eating.
"Lean on me."
"No, Your Highness. I couldn’t possibly..."
Lady Yeo trailed off, shaking her head as she forced herself to walk steadily toward the annex. Inside, they dismissed the eunuchs and guards, sitting quietly across from each other.
Lady Yeo, with her sharp, cold features reminiscent of Kang’s, had always been delicate and gentle in temperament. Her gaze had always been faint, like the flickering light of a dying flame, but today it was completely devoid of life, as if her soul had been drained.
It was no wonder—after all, the events of that wedding day had been nothing short of devastating. The emperor had been desperate for Kang, kissing him with a tenderness he had never shown before. Holding him carefully in his human form, afraid that his wolfish nature might hurt him, he had stopped even his usual indulgences at a reasonable point. Kang, too, had clung to him, calling him “Father” one moment and “Your Majesty” or “Your servant” the next, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
As the consort recalled the emperor’s sweet gaze from that day, her chest tightened. That look—it wasn’t the gaze of a father. It was the gaze of a lover. The problem was that the emperor had always been like this, seamlessly balancing the roles of father and lover.
Who could have guessed? Before Kang, he had seemed nothing but a kind and loving father.
At first, the consort’s feelings toward them had been resentment, but as time passed, they festered into jealousy. It was a raw, shameful, and undeniable jealousy. It infuriated her. Why had her son been cast aside? Why was she not enough? If all it took to win the emperor’s affection was a pretty face and submission, then there were countless others who could do the same. What made Kang so special?
The boy couldn’t even transform into a wolf. He was just a lower-ranking omega. The only consolation was that, outside of ceremonial weddings, men couldn’t conceive often.
Even if she couldn’t kill him outright, causing a miscarriage would suffice. A death resulting from a miscarriage might not directly implicate the emperor but would still inflict a devastating blow.
While the emperor indulged himself with Kang—confined in his chambers and consumed by lovesickness—the consort sat alone, clutching her head as she plotted.
The answer was clear. If she couldn’t openly kill Kang, she would ensure a miscarriage instead. That way, his death could be disguised as the unfortunate consequence of a miscarriage, and the emperor would spiral into madness. If the emperor descended into insanity and ceased governing, the heavens would have no choice but to designate a new ruler.
The thought thrilled her. Kang dead, the emperor driven mad and dethroned—it would be a punishment worse than death for him. As the consort revelled silently in her malicious joy, she forced herself to look at Lady Yeo with a soft smile.
“You’ve been through so much, haven’t you?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Lady Yeo’s weak voice betrayed her words, her face pale and gaunt. The consort clicked her tongue softly and took Lady Yeo’s frail, bony hand. Her hands were scarred and chapped from the abuse she had suffered at the hands of other concubines, forced into labour to craft ornate hairpieces for them.
“I’ve spoken harshly to you in the past. I came to apologize. Who would have imagined that His Majesty would treat Hee-bi—his son and concubine—this way? To keep him as a concubine for so long...”
“Your Highness, forgive me, but could we please refrain from speaking about the wedding? I cannot bear to hear of it. To you, he may be just another concubine, but to me, he was my son. He may no longer be mine, but I bore him in my womb. How can I accept what I saw? A father and a son—regardless of the divine mandate, how is it natural?”
Lady Yeo’s tears flowed freely as she struggled to voice her anguish. Watching her sob, the consort smirked inwardly. Yes, this is what a true mother should feel. No mother in this world could take pride in her son becoming a concubine.
The consort edged closer as Lady Yeo wept uncontrollably, her tears soaking into the consort’s hands.
“It’s alright. It’s just the two of us here.”
The consort gently patted Lady Yeo’s back, her whispers dripping with false sympathy, encouraging her to open up completely. Normally, Lady Yeo would have been wary of her, but in this moment of vulnerability, she was grateful, gazing up at the consort with tear-streaked cheeks.
She truly was beautiful—her sharp features, so reminiscent of Kang’s, only became more captivating when softened by tears. Perhaps this explained why the emperor clung to Kang so desperately. Kang, like his mother, had a face that evoked the urge to dominate and make him cry, the kind of face that drew people in like moths to a flame.
An exquisite face, one that awakened forbidden desires. A face meant to be ruined, forced into submission, made to tremble with fear and surrender. The consort’s mind wandered into forbidden thoughts, imagining the emperor’s usual behavior toward Kang and replacing him with someone else. She shook her head, banishing the dark musings.
The problem was that they were a perfect match. They defied taboos with such audacity, cloaking their actions in the guise of divine will.
“I was wrong to think the way I did,” the consort said finally. “At first, I thought it was inevitable because of the heavens’ decree, and so I blamed you, but this is not right.”
“Your Highness…”
“I am a mother too. When my son suffered misfortune, my heart broke into pieces. One tragedy is enough—Gyeonghye has been stripped of his future, forced into a peaceful life in a prince’s estate. But what sin has Hee-bi committed to be locked away in this palace, forced to sacrifice his youth to the emperor?”
“I don’t want Kang to live here with me. I just want him to be free, to live a happy life. Even if he loves his father, how could he bear his father’s child? And what would that child’s future be? People would point fingers. While His Majesty lives, no one would dare speak, but once he’s gone, and it’s just Kang and his child left behind? What if that child can’t become the crown prince?”
At the mention of the crown prince, the consort’s eyes narrowed. The idea was repulsive, yet terrifyingly plausible. If a father and son could be together, if conception between them was possible, then what isn’t possible?
No, the child couldn’t be allowed to live. She didn’t care whether it was a boy or a girl—the seed had to be eradicated.
“Your Highness, I cannot endure this! My son, as Hee-bi? Just days ago, he was an ordinary prince—he didn’t even have a wedding...”
“Compose yourself, Lady Yeo. If you fall apart, who will protect your son? He has only you now.”
The consort gripped Lady Yeo’s trembling hands tightly, locking eyes with her as she whispered lies disguised as comfort. Lady Yeo, hiccupping, stared at her in a daze.
“Opportunities will come. His Majesty cannot interfere in the inner court, and even the Empress Dowager has been unwell since the late emperor’s passing. Now is the time.”
“…You want me to save my child?”
Lady Yeo, seemingly swayed by the consort’s resolute gaze, hesitated, her breath catching with faint hope. The consort dabbed away her tears, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Do you want your son to bear His Majesty’s child?”
Lady Yeo shook her head violently. The consort’s voice grew firm, her tone deliberate.
“If not, then we must act. Gyeonghye is incapacitated, Jinyeong has passed, and Sohyun was exiled after murdering his mother. The remaining princes are in precarious positions. If Kang were to conceive, it would only lead to greater chaos. And what if Kang does not want this? What if he was forced?”
“But the heavens have decreed it.”
“What if His Majesty pleaded with the heavens to grant it, deliberately keeping Kang a virgin for this very purpose?”
Even then, Lady Yeo hesitated. To reject the heavens’ will went against the very foundation of her beliefs. It was the same for Kang. That one word, “divine will,” had silenced him, rendering him powerless to resist the emperor’s embrace. In the end, he had even begged for more, his body betraying him.
“What matters more—the heavens or your child?”
Lady Yeo wept silently before responding.
“Kang is what matters.”
“Yes, of course. As mothers, it’s only natural to prioritize our children.”
“But why are you offering me this comfort?”
“There’s been enough ruin.”
The consort smiled faintly, her face shadowed with regret. Holding Lady Yeo’s roughened hands as if making an oath, she spoke with calm determination.
“After my son’s fall, I finally understood. I’ve wronged you, the late concubines confined to cold palaces, the ones driven mad... We are all women in the same situation. Who among us willingly became the emperor’s concubines and bore his children? Perhaps if we had banded together to protect our children, things might have turned out differently. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize this. If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll do everything I can to help your son now.”
“H-help?”
“Yes. Let’s work together to get Kang out of this palace. He deserves a different life. He’s only just reached manhood, after all.”
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I feel so bad for Kang's mom, tbh. The only normal person here who wished nothing but happiness and safety for her child but got involved into something horrendous. But her way of saving him is not it.