The capital was heavily drenched, and the higher the sky, the darker the clouds became. The clouds were clustered together, and the rain came down thick and fierce. The young sprouts were being swept away by the strong wind and rain, and the farmers gathered together to prevent the sprouts from being washed away. Originally, they would have been playing with the puppies at the royal manor, but now they were helping the farmers in the fields. Even with raincoats on, the intensity of the rain made it impossible to open their eyes properly. The early-season rain seemed like the tears of the late Emperor. The emperor had died after coughing up blood for less than a week. Could it be that he was venting his grievances from the heavens?
But he had already lived his life, enjoyed what he could, so what grievances could the late emperor still have? The dead should not speak. When the dead speak too much, it is only a headache for the living.
"Your Highness, you may leave now. We will take care of it from here."
The village chief bowed deeply. Kang, his face weathered by the sun, smiled kindly as he looked at the chief. He took his hand out of the raincoat made of bird feathers and shook the chief's muddy hand, speaking softly.
"I've already prepared food and water, so don't worry. You can return home with peace of mind."
"Your Highness…"
The chief began to kneel, but Kang stopped him.
"The rain has made everything muddy. Please don't kneel."
Kang handed the chief the prepared provisions and stepped back.
"I've already told the doctor, but there might not be enough supplies. Be especially careful with children or pregnant women who might get sick from drinking bad water. If anyone falls ill, take them to the doctor immediately."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Kang smiled one last time and began walking away. Though he didn’t have to help in the fields, assisting with the harvest and offering encouragement during difficult times gave a great boost to the emperor's prestige. The emperor himself could rarely leave the palace except for special occasions, so as the crown prince, Kang had to show the emperor’s authority in his stead.
Although this wouldn’t make him the crown prince, Kang still wanted to contribute as a prince. As he walked, his attendant, Damyeong, approached and began wiping the dirt from Kang's face and hands.
"Your Highness, your nails are chipped and your hands are a mess."
Damyeong grumbled as he cleaned the dirt off. Kang laughed heartily and patted Damyeong's shoulder.
"Well, what’s wrong with a man having pretty hands?"
"Doesn't His Majesty like them?"
"So what if he does?" Kang shrugged. He stopped to press a cloth against the bleeding part of his finger, wincing slightly but enduring it.
"It’s been a while since I’ve worked the fields. My shoulders are sore. How about we go to the market for some drinks?"
"Your Majesty…"
"I know, I’m strange sometimes," Kang said with a chuckle.
Kang stopped walking and looked at Damyeong with a cold expression. Damyeong, slightly shorter than Kang, lowered his head under the weight of the pressure emanating from Kang's gaze. Kang, lowering the now-red cloth Damyeong had given him, spoke.
"I don't think you're really my person."
"Your Majesty, all of the people and subjects in this country naturally serve the Emperor first, as you well know, don't you?"
Damyeong’s words, acknowledging the Emperor as the true ruler, made Kang slowly smile.
"That’s true. There’s no need for you to serve me."
Muttering to himself, Kang's smile faded, wiped away by the rain. He looked down at his mud-covered leather shoes and then glanced back up at Damyeong, speaking calmly.
"Still, we could be friends. It's fine if you serve my father. But as for me…"
"Are you saying you consider me your friend?" Damyeong asked, his voice uncertain.
"Of course," Kang said with a bright smile. The blooming warmth of his smile made Damyeong’s gaze waver.
In that moment, Damyeong felt a stirring desire to escape with Kang. There were times when, seeing Kang so innocently trusting the Emperor, swallowing whatever was handed to him without understanding, Damyeong had felt a pang of longing to take him away from all of it. He knew that the Emperor's gaze towards Kang, and Kang's gaze towards the Emperor, though seemingly the same, were ultimately different. The crossing of their gazes led to an unknown place—an empty ruin, perhaps, or maybe it would become a paradise. No one could say whether the ruin would become winter or spring.
Damyeong, fully aware of the inevitable path Kang was on, thought of the future in which Kang would be forced into the Emperor’s grasp, bearing children, becoming a part of the cold, unyielding fate created by the Emperor himself.
Damyeong, for the first time, opened his arms and embraced Kang. The rain soaked through them both, but Damyeong didn't let go. Kang, still unaware of everything, laughed in the drenched field and embraced Damyeong.
"Damyeong, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?"
"No," Damyeong replied quietly.
"I'm sorry," Damyeong thought. He would have to force Kang into the Emperor's world, but it was something he had no choice but to do.
Damyeong sent a tear, mingled with the rain, onto Kang's shoulder. The tear, unable to be absorbed, merged with the rain on the raincoat before disappearing.