“Your Highness, may I see your wrist?”
Today, like every other day, the royal physician came to check Kang’s pulse. Kang sighed, feeling a familiar tightness in his chest as he extended his wrist through the curtain. The physician’s face was tense as he examined Kang. It had only been fifteen days since the wedding, so it was far too early to detect a pregnancy. But that wasn’t the only concern. As a man, Kang’s body wasn’t naturally suited for intimacy with the Emperor, so the Emperor had ordered the physician to monitor Kang’s condition regularly.
“Is Your Highness… managing the sacred duty of receiving His Majesty?”
Kang’s face flushed red. He fidgeted with his hands, unable to answer. A palace maid stepped forward and whispered to him. When Kang’s eyes met hers, he quickly looked away. His face alternated between red and pale, a kaleidoscope of emotions. The young maid found it fascinating—the consort she served was truly full of surprises.
“Your Highness, you must answer. Otherwise, the physician may have to examine more… intimately.”
Kang knew this, but even so, his lips felt as though they were sealed with wax. The physician, visible through the gap in the curtain, also looked nervous. He was likely afraid of overstepping and incurring the Emperor’s wrath. Kang closed his eyes slowly, swallowed hard, and finally spoke.
“It still hurts… but it’s better than before.”
His voice was heavy and lifeless. The physician sighed inwardly before asking,
“And how are you feeling otherwise? Are you still troubled by your heart?”
“Yes… it feels like a stone is lodged in my chest, heavy and suffocating…”
Kang murmured, staring blankly at the floor.
“I want to go outside.”
He missed the freedom he had as a prince—riding horses with friends, hunting, tending to injured animals. He longed for the days when he could request an audience with his mother and see her with permission. Back then, when the Emperor summoned him to the palace, he would arrive in the most beautiful palanquin in the kingdom. He wanted to return to those days, when he and the Emperor were praised as the most admirable father and son in the land.
He didn’t want this life—constantly anxious about whether he was pregnant, afraid of people’s judgment, confined to the palace.
Above all, he was afraid of the Emperor’s love. It was so sweet and overwhelming that it was starting to confuse him. When he looked into the Emperor’s golden eyes, brimming with affection, he sometimes wondered if it would be easier to just accept it. But in the end, the truth always struck him like a blow to the back of the head. He is my father. Every time they were intimate, every time he felt pleasure, a sharp, icy pain would follow, as if someone were scolding him.
You’re just using the heavens as an excuse to cling to your father, aren’t you?
Now, everything was a mess. Kang didn’t know when the Emperor had started loving him as a lover rather than a son. He didn’t know if he saw the Emperor as a father or a lover anymore. What would happen to his mother? How would the child he bore be recorded in the family registry? The living Empress Dowager would soon return to the palace, and Kang had no idea what to call her or how to face her. The weight of it all was suffocating.
Kang wanted to run away. The palace, which had once felt like a warm and comforting home, was now a prison that suffocated and bound him. If he could, he longed to be free.
“I…”
Kang’s voice trailed off as his eyes glazed over, tears suddenly streaming down his face. Reflecting on his current situation, the weight of it all hit him at once, and the tears came pouring out. The physician and the palace maids stared at him in surprise. Unable to bear their gazes, Kang lowered his head, only to notice a puddle forming below him.
“Huh?”
Kang touched his own face, startled to find it wet with uncontrollable tears. It was only then that he realized how much he was struggling to endure this situation. Covering his face, he began to sob bitterly. He hated this—not just the circumstances, but the fact that he loved the Emperor so much it hurt.
And yet, he truly loved the Emperor. How could he not? Without the Emperor, Kang would have lived and died as an insignificant prince in this vast palace, and his mother and her family would have been ruined. To Kang, the Emperor was his father, his heaven, and the ruler of the nation. He couldn’t bring himself to hate him.
If only I could hate him, Kang thought. Maybe then my heart would feel lighter.
“Abamama… call for Abamama. I need to see him,” Kang choked out between sobs. The maids quickly moved to obey. The Emperor was currently in a meeting with his advisors, and there was no guarantee he would come. Unable to hold back his tears, Kang called for Seol, the dog tied up outside. Seol bounded over and nuzzled into Kang, who buried his face in the dog’s soft fur and cried.
“You think I’m a fool too, don’t you?”
Seol barked in response, as if agreeing.
“You’re calling me a fool?”
Seol barked again. The dog, who had always been there for Kang, looked up at him with a wide, happy grin. Unaffected by his master’s sorrow, Seol was living quite happily in the palace, thanks to the Emperor’s orders to feed him meat every day.
Kang didn’t know how long he cried, but eventually, the Emperor rushed into his quarters, clearly having hurried over in concern. Kang tried to send Seol away, not wanting the dog to witness his resentment, but Seol, oblivious, ran to the Emperor and jumped into his arms. The Emperor lifted the dog effortlessly.
“How can you be so happy when your master is crying?”
Lately, Seol had grown particularly fond of the Emperor. Though Kang had brought the dog to the palace for his own comfort, Seol seemed to prefer the Emperor, perhaps because they were both of the same “pack.” When Kang shot a resentful look at the Emperor, the Emperor carefully set Seol down. The oblivious dog wagged its tail happily.
“Everyone, leave us,” the Emperor commanded. The maids, the physician, and the guards quickly filed out of the chamber, leaving only the Emperor and Kang in the warm, sunlit room. The Emperor sat down beside Kang, who looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.
“Why were you crying?”
“…I feel suffocated.”
The Emperor tilted his head, puzzled by Kang’s unusually melancholic expression.
“How can you feel suffocated when the Son of Heaven, who loves you more than anyone in the world, is right beside you?”
It was a confession Kang had often made as a child. Whenever the Emperor demonstrated his archery skills, Kang would cheer louder and more enthusiastically than anyone else. When the Emperor hunted like a wolf, Kang’s face would flush with admiration, and he would run over like a little squirrel, grinning from ear to ear.
“Abamama, I love you more than anyone in the world. Really! When you’re a wolf, you’re so cool, and, and…”
“And?”
“…I don’t know. I just love you, Abamama.”
The Emperor had always been overjoyed by his son’s innocent and clumsy confessions, smiling brightly as Kang hugged his neck and nuzzled his shoulder affectionately.
Both Kang and the Emperor remembered those moments vividly, but their feelings about them were vastly different. While the Emperor cherished those memories with uncontainable joy, Kang felt as though the world was crumbling around him.
“…I love you so much, Abamama, and that’s why I feel so suffocated.”
The Emperor fell silent, his gaze lingering on Kang’s tear-streaked lashes. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, but Kang spoke first, turning to look at him with fresh tears in his eyes.
“You’re cruel, yet so gentle, and my heart keeps leaning toward you… I don’t know anymore. I really don’t.”
“Even though the heavens have permitted this?” the Emperor asked subtly.
Kang let out a bitter laugh.
“Even if the heavens have permitted it, you and I are still father and son. That’s an unchangeable fact. My body and mind feel like they’re at war… my heart is tangled, and I feel so stifled, so guilty… It’s as if everything is condemning me.”
“No one can condemn you. The Son of Heaven is here,” the Emperor said, lifting Kang onto his lap and soothing him as he had done when Kang was a child. Kang leaned into the embrace, murmuring weakly,
“Was it really so easy for you, Abamama, to accept me as a lover? When did you start…?”
Kang’s lips trembled as he tried to ask when the Emperor had begun to feel this way about him. His face flushed with embarrassment. The Emperor cupped Kang’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. His eyes half-lidded, the Emperor moved closer, as if to kiss him. The atmosphere grew thick with tension, and Kang’s face turned red as he parted his lips.
He’s my father. But if, as Abamama says, I can truly accept this love… then maybe…
“Does that really matter now?” the Emperor whispered before kissing Kang deeply. Their tongues tangled, and the Emperor refused to let go, as if determined to steal Kang’s very breath. Kang’s hands twitched, but the Emperor grabbed one and placed it around his own neck. Hesitantly, Kang wrapped his arms around the Emperor.
“Mmm… ah…”
It felt as though he was being devoured—as if his very soul was being consumed by the kiss. Kang couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, afraid of being sucked into the golden depths of the Emperor’s gaze. When he finally turned his head away, the Emperor laughed softly. Kang focused on his own lap, trying to steady his ragged breathing. The Emperor wiped Kang’s swollen, bleeding lips with his thumb and whispered,
“You’ll come to accept it too.”
Kang trembled with discomfort, unable to respond. Though he was a grown man, he always seemed to shrink into something smaller and more fragile whenever he was held in the Emperor’s arms. When Kang tried to avoid the Emperor’s gaze, the Emperor forcibly lifted his chin and smiled. Kang stiffened as his eyes met the Emperor’s golden ones, feeling trapped.
“It’s about time you started attending the regular tea gatherings with the other consorts,” the Emperor said casually.
The tea gatherings were occasions where the consorts would come together to chat and discuss matters related to the Emperor or their children. Traditionally, these gatherings were presided over by the Empress, but since there had been no Empress for several years, the events had become more of a formality. The consorts would gather, drink tea, exchange pleasantries, and then leave with their children in tow.
At the Emperor’s words, Kang sat up in shock.
“What? But… Mother will be there too…”
“Who is your mother?” the Emperor asked with a short laugh. His tone was almost mocking, but Kang could only stare at him in stunned silence. The idea of facing the other consorts at the tea gathering was overwhelming. No matter how he thought about it, it felt like an impossible task. Kang’s face gradually paled, losing all colour until it was as white as paper. Yet the Emperor’s expression remained calm and smiling.
“You’ll have to preside over these gatherings once you become Empress, so there’s no need to be so afraid.”
“…Do I really have to go?” Kang asked in a hollow voice.
The Emperor hugged him tightly and replied, “You should go and show off how much the Emperor dotes on you. You have every right to. I can’t stand the thought of you being looked down upon by the other consorts.”
“I… I can’t do it. I really can’t. Mother will be there, and…”
“Should I send them all to the Cold Palace?” the Emperor asked with a serene smile.
Sending someone to the Cold Palace was a euphemism for execution. The Emperor had never spared any consort he sent there—not even his own mother. The thought of his mother, trembling and trapped in the Cold Palace, made Kang’s vision darkened. Terrified, Kang shrank back and shook his head, pleading silently for the Emperor not to go through with it. The Emperor laughed cheerfully.
“If you don’t attend the tea gathering, it’s the same as saying you don’t receive the Emperor’s favor. So, you must go. Do you understand?”