While the Emperor enjoyed the hunt, bonding with others, Kang sat alone in the dimly lit chamber, absentmindedly stroking Seol. The dog whined softly, clearly wanting to be held. Kang wrapped his long, slender arms around Seol’s sturdy frame and rested his face against the dog’s back, inhaling the familiar, earthy scent of fur.
“It feels like we’ve gone back to the past,” Kang murmured.
The “past” he referred to wasn’t even that long ago, yet it felt distant, as though years had passed. Lost in memories that seemed both recent and far away, Kang sighed and lifted his head. Through the open window, the vibrant signs of spring poured in—the faint scent of flowers, the gentle breeze brushing his cheeks, soothing his troubled mind. Everything was peaceful. Kang stared blankly ahead for a moment before standing up, still holding Seol. His body ached, and his legs felt numb, but he pushed through the discomfort and walked to the window.
Leaning out, he finally felt the spring he had been missing. It was warm, light, like the linen robes worn in summer. Closing his eyes, Kang basked in the breeze until Seol’s whining drew his attention. The dog was pacing by the door, clearly wanting to go outside. Reluctantly, Kang ordered the maids to open the door, but Seol simply sat down, wagging his tail vigorously.
“You want me to come with you?”
Seol seemed to grin in response. Kang sighed, then fetched a robe—a black one embroidered with the Emperor’s insignia—and followed Seol outside. As the doors opened, guards, maids, and eunuchs fell into step behind him. For a moment, it felt like he had returned to his days as a prince. Back then, he had lived in the Qianjin Palace, surrounded by people and treasures. Though his current life wasn’t so different, the constant presence of others felt stifling.
“Can’t you all just stay here? I’ll be fine on my own,” Kang finally said, turning to the entourage. But they firmly refused, leaving him no choice. Resigned, Kang walked sullenly to the garden with Seol trotting happily beside him. Despite often accompanying the Emperor on outings, Seol seemed overjoyed to be out with Kang today, darting around with boundless energy. Watching the dog, Kang felt a small sense of relief. At least Seol could enjoy some freedom.
The garden was already in full bloom. Kang knelt slightly, examining the flowers one by one.
“Ah…”
They were all his favorites—the same kinds he had grown in the royal estate. He used to pick the best blooms and weave them into crowns to give to the Emperor. The memory brought a faint smile to his lips as he gently touched the petals.
The Emperor must have ordered these planted. This garden, belonging to the consorts, was a place where the Emperor’s word was absolute. He knew every detail of Kang’s preferences, and his love was overwhelming. Yet, instead of comfort, it only made Kang feel more suffocated.
The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his thoughts. A maid bowed respectfully and said,
“Your Highness, it’s time to prepare for the tea gathering.”
“…Alright.”
The time had come for the gathering Kang had been dreading. Dragging his heavy legs, he made his way back into the palace. Seol, noticing Kang’s departure, finally trotted over and walked leisurely by his side. Even in his gloom, Kang couldn’t help but feel a little better with Seol nearby.
“You’re on my side, right?” Kang asked, ruffling Seol’s head.
Seol barked once, short and affirmative.
“Good. I’ll give you some meat later.”
At the mention of meat, Seol’s eyes widened. The dog had a knack for ignoring words he didn’t like but perked up at the ones he did. Kang chuckled at Seol’s reaction before following the maids inside. With practiced efficiency, they bathed him and dressed him in an exquisite robe, reminiscent of the one he had worn on his wedding day. Kang grimaced and asked for simpler attire, but the maids firmly replied, “It’s His Majesty’s order.” His long, lustrous hair was neatly tied up, and the maids praised the elegance of his neckline, though Kang did his best to ignore their compliments.
As they adorned him with gold rings, bracelets, and earrings, Kang discreetly slipped his fingers out of the sleeves, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. By the time they finished, he was thoroughly dressed up.
Even boarding the palanquin required the maids’ assistance—a level of service Kang had never received, even as a prince. Embarrassed, he flushed red and avoided their eyes.
The tea gathering was held at Yaohu Hall, overlooking the lake. Kang prayed silently for it to end quickly, his anxiety mounting with every step. Unfortunately, the palanquin arrived at the hall far too soon. His heart raced faster than it had during any hunt. Taking deep breaths, he stepped out slowly, only to stumble slightly in his nervousness.
“Your Highness, are you alright?” a eunuch fussed, rushing over.
Kang hid his flushed face behind his long sleeves.
“I’m fine. Please, stop making a scene.”
After a moment, he lowered his sleeves and glanced at the other palanquins gathered outside the hall. Among the modest and unremarkable ones, his mother’s faded palanquin stood out. Unlike Kang’s, which was adorned with jewels and feathers as a symbol of the Emperor’s favor, hers was worn and outdated, its decorations long out of fashion. A pang of sadness struck Kang’s chest, and he grew restless, unsure how to approach his mother, whose status was now lower than his own. The Emperor had declared, “She is no longer your mother,” but to Kang, she would always be his mother. Just as he couldn’t deny the Emperor was his father, he couldn’t deny her either.
Maybe I should just avoid speaking to her. Kang thought dazedly as he slowly entered Yeohujeon.
Inside, the consorts were seated according to their rank. There were two seats for the imperial consorts and many more for the lower-ranking concubines. Among them sat his mother, Lady Yeo, calm and composed. She looked as young and fragile as ever, idly fiddling with a folding fan in her hands. She seemed to be trying to adapt to this unfamiliar situation, her eyes downcast. Kang’s heart grew heavy as he watched her.
The atmosphere shifted the moment Kang entered. As the only male consort and the Emperor’s favourite, his presence was significant. The consorts greeted him with bright, mask-like smiles, their voices dripping with false warmth.
“Your Highness, you’ve arrived.”
“We’ve been waiting for you.”
Kang forced himself to keep walking under the weight of their smiles. But the moment his eyes met his mother’s, he froze. His body turned to stone. A maid noticed his hesitation and looked up, but Kang quickly turned his head away. This was impossible. He couldn’t do it.
“Your Highness!” the maid called out, trying to stop him, but Kang strode out of the hall without a word.
His chest felt tight, as if it had turned to stone. A pain, starting from his heart, spread through his body, leaving him numb and breathless. It hurt so much—an indescribable ache that made him hold his breath. Just as he was about to collapse under the weight of it, he felt a warm touch on his back.
“Consort Hee-bi.”
“Ah…”
Kang turned to see his mother, Lady Yeo, standing behind him. She had masked her lips, which had almost called him “son,” with a gentle smile. Her soft, tender touch made his eyes sting, but no tears came. Kang straightened his back and looked at her with the steady gaze of a devoted son. Though her eyes glistened with unshed tears, Lady Yeo composed herself and spoke firmly.
“Your Highness, come here. Let’s rest for a while in the sunlight.”
There was something different about his mother’s demeanor, and Kang nodded weakly. Unlike the fragile, wounded woman who had always hidden in her chambers, there was a sharpness in her eyes now. Ignoring the pain in his chest, Kang followed her, unwilling to let go of the warmth of her presence after so long.
The guards, maids, and eunuchs quickly caught up, surrounding them. Lady Yeo flinched at their approach, as if seeing them as extensions of the Emperor’s authority. Kang pulled her into his arms, shielding her as they leaned against a tree.
“Mother.”
Kang spoke as soon as he looked at her. Lady Yeo’s face crumpled, and she reached up to caress her son’s thin cheek.
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. This is all the will of the heavens.”
Unlike in front of the Emperor, Kang tried to appear strong for his mother. While the Emperor was someone he could lean on endlessly, his mother was someone he needed to protect. He looked at her with steady, dark eyes and gently cupped her face.
“Are you alright, Mother?”
Kang asked with a faint smile, and she nodded.
“It’s all thanks to you. Because of you, I…”
Her voice trailed off as she studied her son’s face. It had changed so much. The quiet despair and resignation in his eyes made her want to cry. This palace was a place where flowers withered, and she had accepted that fate for herself. But it was too cruel for her son, who was still so young. Knowing the Emperor’s harsh and brutal nature, she shuddered and bit her lip. Though she had seen firsthand how tender the Emperor could be with Kang, it didn’t ease her fears. She didn’t want to leave her son here.
Kang had to live a life different from hers.
“If we talk too long, the Emperor will grow suspicious. Kang-ah, I won’t say much more. I’ll help you escape. Run away.”
“What?”
Kang’s eyes widened in shock. He forced an awkward laugh and shook his head.
“That’s impossible. How could I leave you behind and run away? The Emperor wouldn’t stand for it. And to defy the heavens’ decree…”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is you. You, my son, are the most important thing.”
Seeing the flickering determination in his mother’s eyes, Kang fell silent. Lady Yeo closed her eyes for a fleeting moment. In that brief instant, she saw her son passing before her.
She wasn’t unafraid. No, in truth, she was terrified—so much so that she could hardly sleep at night. She trembled at the thought that the Emperor might massacre her entire family or use their escape as an excuse to punish both her and the Noble Consort.
But when she saw her child running from her in fear, she made up her mind. She had to let him go.
He had done nothing wrong. If anything, his only sin was growing up too gentle, too obedient. On their wedding night, he hadn’t even been able to voice his refusal to the father who violated him.
As she looked upon her son, who had been trapped by the Emperor’s obsessive love and denied even the chance to thrive as a prince, she spoke with a heavy heart.
“We’ll meet again someday. Just remember that. If a chance to escape arises, I will help you. Run away. You know it as well as I do—His Majesty cannot abandon the kingdom. He won’t forsake his life and throne just to chase after you.”
“What about you, Mother?”
Kang, already frightened, reached out to hold onto Lady Yeo. But she pulled away with cold resolve and said,
“Don’t concern yourself with me. I am just a mere consort, nothing more.”
Lady Yeo—his mother—was walking away. Kang wanted to hold onto her, but his body refused to move. All he could do was stand there and watch as her figure grew smaller and smaller.
A dull ache throbbed in his chest, making him blink. The word escape made his heart pound—terrifying and yet laced with the faintest trace of hope.
Placing a hand over his unsettled heart, he took a deep breath.
Could he really escape? Could he leave the Emperor behind?
Would the Emperor be hurt?
That lingering thought made him hesitate, his feet unwilling to move forward. Biting his lips, Kang tried to suppress the urge to look back.