Before they could reach Akyang, Gwak Pae and San-gyeong’s troops crushed the private soldiers that General Seol had been secretly raising. San-gyeong brought General Seol before the beleaguered general, forcing him to face reality.

“Will you continue to fight?”

General Seol had received only a single message from Empress Ryu, urging him to strike at the imperial house without delay. He had no knowledge of what had already unfolded in Akyang. By the time he realized that the Emperor’s faction had secured the city, it was far too late—his will to fight crumbled. The battle, already tilting against him, ended then and there.

What followed was an hour of purges.

In an instant, Empress Ryu was deposed, and the Ryu, Seol, and Dan clans were annihilated. Along with them, the corrupt factions that had propped up Lady Ryu and the First Prince were swept away. At last, the festering rot that had eaten at the nation for seven years was cut out at the root.

The name of the deposed Empress Seop—once the target of scorn and whispers for her supposed cruelty—rose higher than ever.

“When Empress Seop reigned, life was good. Wasn’t it Lady Ryu who made us poor?”

When it was further revealed that Lady Ryu and Seol Mi-hee had stolen the rightful places of wives through the same vicious schemes, public outrage only grew.

The people grieved especially upon learning that Na Ryeo-eun’s ruined beauty and untimely death had been the work of Seol Mi-hee. Worse still, her husband had cast aside his true wife, clinging instead to the Seol family’s power, leaving Na Ryeo-eun’s children abandoned and neglected.

“In that household, the only decent ones are the three children born of Madam Na!”

Suddenly, they even brought up Dan Joo-hyuk, once half-forgotten, praising him as a man of integrity and a promising general—one whom the Prince of Ye trusted deeply.

“Come to think of it, all three siblings share a bond with His Highness Ye.”

If there was one person the people trusted above all, it was the Prince of Ye. And now that he had crushed this rebellion in one decisive strike, their faith in him only grew. The fact that he was connected with Na Ryeo-eun’s three children made the bond seem all the more remarkable.

“Then the young lady of the Dan clan must surely be no ordinary person.”

At last, Seop Ji-yeon, cleared of false charges and restored to her rank, arrived in Akyang on the swiftest ship.

The Emperor himself, leading his children and ministers, went to greet the Empress.

Dressed plainly yet exuding graceful dignity, Seop Ji-yeon disembarked and bowed before him. The Emperor hastily caught her by the arms and raised her up.

“You have suffered greatly, my Empress.”

“Your Majesty is the one who has suffered. I am only humbled that you endured so much on my behalf.”

There was no trace of sorrow or resentment on Seop Ji-yeon’s face. She truly pitied the Emperor, who had borne the burden of opposing the Ryu clan alone, and reproached herself for not being there to help.

“It was my fault for failing to raise our children well that matters have come to this. I beg you, punish me.”

“Say no more. They are our children. If they went astray, the blame lies with me as much as with you.”

Seop Ji-yeon’s expression turned faintly bitter—until her eyes suddenly fell upon Woo-hye, standing quietly behind the Emperor.

Sensing her look, the Emperor gestured toward her.

“I am told Woo-hye was close to the Empress at Wolyang Temple.”

“Yes. She cared for me when I was ill.”

After hesitating for a moment, Seop Ji-yeon took out the letter that Woo-hye had left for her at Wolyang Temple before she left for Doha.

“I read your words… It was my fault. Forgive me.”

Gasps of astonishment rippled through the hall. This was not the Seop Ji-yeon they remembered—the Empress once famed for a nature sterner and more unyielding than any general. Yet here she was now, speaking with gentleness and humility to one far younger than herself.

She was sincerely apologizing to Woo-hye.

Woo-hye’s lips twisted, her face shadowed with hurt, her expression almost childishly wounded.

“So you never hated me?”

Seop Ji-yeon shook her head.

“Not once. The only one I hated was myself. I feared I would destroy you as I destroyed myself, so I cut you away. But I was wrong. You are stronger, far greater, than I ever believed.”

With tears brimming in her eyes, Seop Ji-yeon opened her arms. Woo-hye rushed forward as if she had been waiting for this moment all along, throwing herself into the embrace with fierce urgency. The sight of them was like mother and daughter, reconciled after nothing more than a passing quarrel.

As Woo-hye cried, Seop Ji-yeon stroked her tenderly. And instead of apology or gratitude, she finally spoke the one thought that had weighed on her heart all this time.

“At last, your eyes can see again. I am glad.”

💍⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡💍

The Emperor summoned Woo-hye to the imperial court and, before all, honored her great service.

“Dan Woo-hye, daughter of the Dan clan, once bore the unjust stigma of imprisonment at Wolyang Temple, where she devoted herself with filial piety in service to Her Majesty Empress Seop, mother of the realm. She founded Pungwoo Pavilion and, together with the Second Prince, brought relief to the people. In standing against the criminal Ryu clan and the Seol family, she uncovered and crushed their wicked schemes, displaying unmatched courage. In recognition of her righteousness, her wisdom, and the merits by which she shielded the nation from calamity, Dan Woo-hye shall be ennobled as Princess of Yeongan.”

The title of xianzhu was reserved for the daughter of a royal prince. Yet the Emperor, acknowledging that Woo-hye had attended Seop Ji-yeon for seven years as though she were her own mother, and that she had rendered extraordinary service to the realm, elevated her as if she were born of the imperial house itself.

Empress Seop herself declared she would cherish Woo-hye as an adopted daughter. Thus, the title of Princess of Yeongan was no different from naming her the Emperor’s own child. In name, she was a xianzhu—but in truth, no princess would dare look down upon her.

Favored by the Empress, exalted above every woman of the court, the Princess of Yeongan walked alongside Prince Ye, the Emperor’s most beloved son. Together they drew every gaze—not for power nor for rank, but for their overwhelming beauty.

How could mortals be so breathtaking?

Prince Ye’s face, rarely seen, left onlookers speechless with its perfection. And Woo-hye, famed as Doha’s Blossom Beauty, lived up to every tale told of her.

As the two passed side by side, commanding every eye, they made their way toward the Second Prince’s palace.

The Second Prince could only stare in disbelief, his gaze shifting helplessly between them—the flawless pair who now stood before him.

“I greet Your Highness, Second Prince.”

He fixed his gaze on the woman who had so often left him at a loss, the corner of his mouth lifting wryly.

“I cannot begin to count how many times you have astonished me, Princess of Yeongan. Is there yet another hidden identity I do not know of?”

Amazingly, there was.

“Shall I tell you?”

“…You mean there truly is?”

When Woo-hye revealed the truth about the Wugeum Trading Company, the Second Prince was struck momentarily speechless. At last, regaining his composure, he motioned them forward.

“Sit, for now.”

In truth, he and San-gyeong were not close. Or rather, San-gyeong had never been close with anyone. A faint awkwardness lingered between them.

Still, with Woo-hye present, the Second Prince found himself at ease. She was unpredictable, even audacious, but far warmer company than his cousin—who seemed to carry with him a chill as sharp as the north wind.

“I hear the wedding draws near.”

And as an elder of the family, he presented the gift he had prepared.

“It is nothing extraordinary, but I would be pleased if you accepted it.”

Woo-hye glanced at the large piece of jade the attendant displayed and curved her lips into a smile.

“It is indeed a rare and fine stone. I am grateful for your grace, Your Highness.”

The attendant had, perhaps without thinking, stepped close to Woo-hye to show her the jade more clearly. No doubt he assumed she would be the one to fashion it into an ornament and wear it.

But that small act unsettled San-gyeong’s temper. To him, it looked far too much like the Second Prince was offering a personal gift directly to Woo-hye.

With a swift motion, San-gyeong seized the box from the attendant and tossed it back toward Do-eon, who stood behind him.

“We shall make good use of it, brother.”

“…Y-yes, of course.”

The Second Prince swallowed dryly at the sight of San-gyeong’s expression growing even colder.

‘Did I do something wrong?’

Uneasy though he felt, he forced himself to steady his thoughts and continued, turning back to the pair with words of thanks.

“The reason I asked you here today is to thank you for your help when I distributed food to the people. At the time, I was too preoccupied, and afterward too many events followed in quick succession, so my gratitude has been delayed.”

Had it not been for Woo-hye and San-gyeong, the Second Prince might well have fallen beneath the blades of assassins that day. His words now carried sincerity—an open acknowledgment that they had saved his life.

“I only did what was necessary.”

San-gyeong answered with calm composure.

Woo-hye, however, smiled in that peculiar way of hers, as though concealing some secret.

“In truth, it was all because of me. The Pungwoo Pavilion had bought up the grain in advance, and that must have stoked their fury even further.”

When the First Prince had been desperately hunting for grain, she had even sold some to him at an outrageous markup.

“I was the one who provoked their resentment. But of course, I made sure that Your Highness came to no harm.”

“…I see.”

The Second Prince, though grateful, could not entirely dispel the uneasy taste left on his tongue.