“I greet Your Highness, the Consort.” 

“Raise your head.” 

Jeong Han Seok, who had bowed deeply to show proper respect, straightened up immediately at Yeocheong’s request. When he raised his head and saw Yeocheong’s reddened eyes, he flinched slightly, but quickly composed himself and returned to his usual expression. 

There were always things in the palace that it was better to pretend not to see, and Jeong Han knew this well. 

“I heard there was an unfortunate incident.” 

“Isn’t it my fault that I couldn’t manage even one confidant?” 

“Foolish decisions are made everywhere. It is not Your Highness’s fault.” 

His answer was exactly what Yeocheong had expected. With a slight smile, Yeocheong remarked, 

“I didn’t expect the General Overseer himself to come.” 

“Most matters in the palace eventually reach me. And this isn’t just anyone’s business – it concerns Your Highness. How could I entrust it to a mere low-ranking official?” 

As General Overseer, Jeong Han was privy to reports on almost everything that happened in the palace and had the authority to make final decisions on most matters. 

Procedurally, Sowol was not only Yeocheong’s confidant, but also a member of the royal court of Yeon. Once Yeocheong had decided on her punishment, Jeong Han would oversee the steps necessary to carry it out. 

“There may be other hidden crimes. Since she is a servant brought from your homeland, I understand why you might be hesitant, but to conduct an interrogation…” 

“No, that is not the case.”

Yeocheong interjected, cutting Jeong Han off before he could finish. 

“I won’t open an interrogation chamber, but not for the reasons you are suggesting. I simply don’t want it to be known that I couldn’t handle a single confidant I brought here myself.” 

Yeocheong shook his head as he spoke. In truth, he already knew of her other misdeeds. But he had no desire to reveal them or make them public. 

It wouldn’t help him if it became known that Sowol had regarded him as a disposable pawn of the Song Empire. Nor would Jihyuk protect him if the truth came out. 

It would be a relief if he wasn’t cast aside as useless. 

“What happened to the things she stole?” 

“Most of it was turned into money. We also identified the soldier who helped her smuggle them out. Foolishly blinded by greed for something he had no use for, he aided her in her plans. Given his position, he had no reason to leave the palace. 

Was she planning to use the money to start a new life once he was gone and she was banished from the palace?

“Now she says she wants to meet Your Highness to ask for forgiveness in person.” 

“I have no desire to meet with her. Of course, she must face the punishment prescribed by the law. Being my confidant should not exempt her.” 

Yeocheong’s tone was calm, but his words were firm. How soft must she have perceived him to think she could ask to meet the very person she had tried to kill and beg for forgiveness? 

“I never want to see her face again.” 

“Then. 

“Punish them according to the law. And one more thing.” 

Yeocheong’s eyes went cold. There were some truths in this world that were better left unknown for the sake of all concerned. 

Sowol was not someone with a tight tongue. Whether by chance or not, if she met someone curious about palace affairs, she would undoubtedly spill everything she knew. 

“She knows too much to just let her go.” 

“Then what?” 

“There is nothing so light and yet so heavy as a sharp tongue.” 

“Are you sure about that?” 

Jeong Han hesitated slightly as he spoke, perhaps finding the decision excessive. When Yeocheong remained silent, offering no answer, Jeong Han added another word, his voice careful. 

“I’m not trying to defend the maid. I only spoke up because I was afraid there might come a day when Your Highness would regret an irreversible decision.”

“Regret… yes, that could happen. But…” 

If Seon were to know the truth – that the peaceful life she believed she had in the palace was nothing more than a facade, a smile hiding a knife behind her back – it would only bring her more pain.

The Huayong Tea had been brought from the Song Empire by Sowol, but Sowol wasn’t the only one to serve Yeocheong this tea. Seon had also followed Sowol’s example and occasionally served him the same tea, even pouring it for him herself. 

If Seon found out that the tea she offered him was actually a poison that would slowly kill him, Yeocheong couldn’t even begin to imagine how her kind heart would react. 

“No, there’s no need to explain. If you think I’m being unreasonable, tell me.” 

“No, not at all. This is an internal matter of Eunpyeong Palace, and of course it is within Your Highness’s jurisdiction.”

Jeong Han waved his hands slightly, as if taken aback, but it wasn’t that he disagreed – it was just surprising to hear such words from the seemingly fragile wife. 

He remembered seeing Yeocheong in Jangrakwon one early morning. Yeocheong, who had shed quiet, sad tears, looked as if he might collapse at any moment, so precarious was his demeanour. 

“I don’t want to go. But… I suppose I have no choice.” 

Though their faces bore no resemblance, there was someone Jeong Han was reminded of whenever he saw Yeocheong. Perhaps it was because he had met him in Jangnakwon, a place tied to old memories. 

When he was a child, terms like Eumin and Yangin were just words used by adults – things he knew about but paid no attention to. 

His grandfather, the former Yeonwang of several generations ago, had been a gentle soul who enjoyed watching his grandchildren play. Jangnakwon had been specially rebuilt to serve as a playground for his grandchildren, where they could happily spend their days. 

The former Yeonwang had few children, and with only a handful of royal grandchildren, Jangnakwon became both their playground and a place where they grew up treating each other as family and friends. 

“Eek!” 

A piercing, playful shriek echoed in Jeong Han’s memory, transporting him back to those carefree days. 

“Found you!” 

It was a time without worries or burdens. Jeong Han would run around with his young cousins, chatting endlessly and sometimes proudly showing off in front of their grandfather. Those were happy days. 

But they didn’t last long. 

Yeon was a small country, but a precious one. Situated in the south, its mild climate made it a popular destination for recreation, and it produced unique ingredients that were in demand, bringing in considerable revenue through trade. 

However, its military strength was not particularly impressive. To ensure its survival, Yeon not only focused on strengthening its defences, but also worked tirelessly to maintain favourable relations with other nations. 

One of the simplest and most effective agreements they could forge was through marriage. 

“Seonah has only just been identified as an Eumin. She hasn’t even had her first cycle yet…” 

“It cannot be helped. Leaving Yeon early and getting used to her new home will be better for her in the long run.” 

“But then…” 

The good times proved to be fleeting. The few cousins Jeong Han had were married off to foreigners by the time they turned fifteen – or even earlier in some cases. 

By the time the youngest of them, Seonah, had her marriage arranged, the number of royal descendants left in the palace was reduced to just two: Jihyuk and Jeong Han. 

Jangnakwon, once filled with children’s laughter, was reduced to a picturesque garden. The day before Seonah left Yeon, the swing that had been prominently placed where it could be seen from the pavilion was taken down. 

It was the very swing they had once fought over, but now that there was no one left to use it, it was dismantled. 

“Once I go, I can’t come back, can I?” 

“You’ll be fine there. Don’t worry too much…” 

“I don’t want to go. But… I don’t think I have a choice.”

Young Seonah, who had once been so busy running and playing around Jangnakwon, now sat huddled on the floor, tears streaming down her face. 

“I won’t be able to play with my brothers anymore. My nanny told me that most palaces don’t have swings. So I won’t even be able to swing…”

Seonah’s tears fell like chicken droppings, one after the other. It was not a happy sight, even for young Jeong Han, to see the lively child who had once screamed and raced through the garden now crying in despair at the harsh reality. 

“If I had been a better child, would I have been allowed to stay? If I hadn’t shouted or run around the palace so carelessly… if I had studied harder…”

“No, it’s not your fault. This is…” 

“I wish there was something I could do. But there’s nothing I can do.” 

Jeong Han, momentarily lost in memories of his childhood, thought back to the rainy day when he met Yeocheong in Jangnakwon. Coincidentally, Yeocheong had said something strikingly similar to what Seonah had once said. 

“I can’t do anything right. All I’m good for is crying.” 

It had been in Jangrakwon and the words were so similar to Seonah’s. Was that why he couldn’t ignore it? Although Yeocheong’s expression was calmer now, Jeong Han couldn’t help but feel that he was even more broken than before. 

But Yeocheong wasn’t just anyone – she was the wife of Jeong Han’s only remaining cousin and lord, Jihyuk. For this reason, Jeong Han tried to keep a certain distance, knowing that being overly concerned could lead to unintended consequences. Still, every time their paths crossed, Yeocheong’s fragile appearance drew his attention. 

This time was no different. Though Yeocheong spoke of cruel punishments without hesitation, his face looked as if he was bearing the greater torment. 

“You must be in great distress.”

Maybe that was the reason. When Jeong Han looked at Yeocheong, he unintentionally let out words he didn’t need to say. 

“…!” 

The speaker was more startled than the listener and Jeong Han quickly pressed his lips together. 

Yeocheong, momentarily taken by surprise, blinked in slight confusion.