“This morning, the East Annex announced the date for our first night together.”

Yeocheong’s eyes widened at the mention of ‘first night together’. Although it was a bit earlier than expected, considering that almost a month had passed since their wedding, it wasn’t unusual for the date to be set around this time.

However, the suddenness of the announcement left Yeocheong too startled to react. All he could do was blink in surprise.

“They said it would be in four days.”

“In four days…?”

Last time, the news of their first night together had been given about a week in advance. But now, not only had the date been moved up, it had been announced with only four days’ notice. It was clear that the East Annexe had rushed the timetable.

And the reason they had to rush was probably because…

“I think I might be a little nervous,” Jihyuk said, his smile mischievous. “After all, tonight will be our real wedding night.”

It was undoubtedly the subtle but unmistakable pressure of this man. The date for a Crown Prince’s consummation couldn’t be avoided, but it could be moved up or made more frequent if desired.

Of course, auspicious dates couldn’t be arbitrarily rushed, so there were limits to how much the schedule could be adjusted. Furthermore, it wasn’t as if the act itself couldn’t take place outside of the officially designated night.

However, for Jihyuk, who seemed inexplicably drawn to Yeocheong, there could hardly be a better excuse to bring him closer than the formalities of a consummation night.

“I hope it’s not just my imagination that you’ve become a little more comfortable with me.”

It was only that morning that Yeocheong had decided to stop running away. But before he had completely sorted out his thoughts, the sudden news made him nervous.

‘It’s something I can’t avoid anyway. A slight change in timing doesn’t make a difference.’

The momentary discomfort quickly faded as Yeocheong returned to his usual calm expression.

“All this time, I have been haunted by the thought that I might have been too embarrassed on our wedding night.

Now that he was Jihyuk’s husband again, spending the night together was an unavoidable duty – one that had nothing to do with his own feelings or desires.

“As the Crown Princess, this is part of my responsibility. It wouldn’t be right to put my comfort before my duty, would it?”

“I didn’t mean to burden you like this. It’s just…”

“Managing the affairs of the inner court and overseeing palace events are the duties of the Crown Princess. Producing an heir is also part of those duties, isn’t it?”

Thinking about it that way seemed to make it a little easier to accept. Producing a child was an immense duty, too important to entrust to someone like him, but at least he could pretend to try.

“And since Your Highness has been so kind to me, how could I still be afraid of you? It’s just that leaving the Song Empire hasn’t quite felt real yet.”

The truth was that he wasn’t holding on to Jihyuk, but Jihyuk was holding on to him. It was almost laughable how a single statement had changed the situation so drastically. But Yeocheong understood that not every significant change needed a dramatic catalyst.

Whether Jihyuk’s interest in him was genuine or just an expression of a greater ability to deceive than Yeocheong had expected was still uncertain, but it hardly mattered.

A fleeting moment of tenderness wasn’t something worth staking a life on. Whatever feelings Jihyuk harbored toward him, they could change in an instant, as fickle and shallow as human emotions often were.

‘Though there are fools who still stumble and struggle with something so simple.’

Yeocheong allowed a small smile to grace his lips before lifting his eyes back to Jihyuk.

“So you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“I’m glad to hear that you feel more comfortable with me.”

Jihyuk replied.

“But… there’s still one thing that seems to have a long way to go.”

“Pardon?”

Yeocheong thought he had given the answer Jihyuk wanted to hear. He had expected a smile in return, but instead Jihyuk’s expression bore a faint trace of bitterness.

“Don’t let duty consume you too much.”

“But how could I not, when I have the title of Crown Princess?”

“Of course, you’re right.”

Jihyuk said, his lips still curved in a smile.

“But I wish you could be someone who knows how to bend the rules a little. That’s how it is in the palace.”

Though his lips were still parted, the usual warmth in his softly curved eyes was gone. Jihyuk smiled as he spoke, but his tone carried an undercurrent of solemnity.

“Effort and sincerity don’t always pay off here.”

It was a truth Yeocheong already knew. In the past, he had clung to the humans, tormented by the injustice of it all. But now he understood.

The palace was far from an ideal place where things were achieved through effort, sincerity or desperation. Immediate gain, entertainment and power were what really mattered – and he no longer found that realisation bitter.

Still, it was somewhat ironic to hear such advice from Jihyuk. Coming from someone who could even feign sincerity to get what he wanted, the words sounded more like a hunter giving advice to his prey.

Yeocheong let out a faint, mocking laugh as he replied.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Oh dear, saying it like that makes it sound like I’m the one who’s afraid to share a bed with you. Please don’t misunderstand.”

Jihyuk said with a slight smile, his expression returning to his usual calm demeanour as he raised his teacup. The pale crimson tea rippled gently in his hand.

“Do you want an heir from me, Your Highness?”

Yeocheong, who had been watching him intently, unconsciously let the question slip out. Regret followed immediately, but a part of him was curious what answer he would get.

He already knew the answer without having to hear it.

Yeocheong had begun drinking yeju tea after Jihyuk ascended to the throne, a change that coincided with a shift in how Jihyuk treated him.

Back then, Jihyuk had acted as though he cherished Yeocheong. Yet, at the same time, he had made him drink yeju tea to prevent him from conceiving.

‘After all, I’m just a temporary occupant of this position. From the beginning, someone else was intended to hold this seat. Thinking about the future, it would have been wiser not to leave behind an unnecessary seed.’

A child born from a consort taken for convenience, only to be confined once their purpose was fulfilled, would not only be useless but could also become a seed of unnecessary discord.

“Well,” Jihyuk replied lightly, “if it were up to me, I’d like to enjoy a slightly longer honeymoon with you.”

It was a remarkably ideal response—flawless to the point that even if Yeocheong wanted to nitpick, there was nothing to criticize.

‘I should take that as a polite refusal. Nothing has changed this time either.’

Not that it mattered; Yeocheong had no desire to bear his child at this point anyway. If anything, it was better this way. Trying to find a way to prevent conception and risking discovery would only lead to trouble.

“But then again, I’d also like to see a child who resembles you. So perhaps waiting without expectation is the best course for now.”

Though the statement sounded as if there was no urgency regarding the matter of children, Yeocheong believed it was merely well-packaged rhetoric.

Still, it was preferable to the alternative—someone who secretly didn’t want children but openly pressured their partner to conceive. In that sense, this was at least tolerable.

“What do you think? Do you want to have a child?”

“If that is what Your Highness wishes, then so do I.”

Yeocheong replied with a smile.

“I suppose we must leave it to the will of heaven and wait.”

Yeocheong mirrored Jihyuk’s idealistic response, offering a light laugh. It wasn’t something likely to happen, so there was no need to dwell on it. All he needed to do was let time pass meaninglessly, following the flow of instinct.

***

After Jihyuk left, Yeon Palace bustled with preparations for the consummation night set for four days later. Despite knowing that Yeocheong had already spent his wedding night with the Crown Prince, the court attendants argued that this first official consummation was entirely different. They scrutinized every detail of Yeocheong’s condition with fervor.

“All this fuss for just one night…”

“‘Just one night?’ Please don’t think that way! If you approach it too carelessly, even the blessings meant for you will slip away!”

Seon retorted, leaping from her seat as if alarmed.

Though she didn’t say it outright, Seon seemed to hope that Yeocheong would conceive an heir soon, solidifying his position in the palace.

‘That’s not going to happen.’

Yeocheong thought, suppressing a sigh.

All the meticulous care routines supposedly beneficial for the skin and the meals laden with foods deemed ideal for an Omega left Yeocheong thinking how futile the attendants’ efforts were.

He understood, of course, that this was part of their duties, but it still felt cruel to make them work so hard for something that could never bear fruit.

“I’m sure there will be good news soon. And… perhaps by coincidence, a message from the Fifth Empress has just arrived.”

Seon said, smiling slyly as she handed Yeocheong an envelope.

The familiar emblem on the envelope brought a rare brightness to Yeocheong’s face.

“My mother…”

“Tonight will be a long one, so please rest well until dinner, Your Grace. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some preparations to attend to.”

Seon said before stepping out.

Left alone in the room, Yeocheong sat down, his hands trembling slightly as he broke the seal on the envelope.