Jahyang let out a shrill, anguished, helpless scream. Unable to bear the humiliating sight, Rayeon also turned her head away. She squeezed her eyes shut, but she could still hear Gyo Geung’s laboured gasps.

“Even so… unless you can… wield the Myeolang… Flute, urgh…!”

The Myeolang Flute had been passed down through the generations since the foundation of the kingdom. It was said to have been carved from a dragon’s horn, and that it could be used to summon rain to extinguish raging fires, or to disperse storm clouds before they caused flooding.

 Although it looked like an ordinary flute, only the Geum bloodline could play it. This was the reason for Gyo Geung’s certainty that this man could never become king of Geumseong. Surely the Red King knew that, too. Yet he answered without a trace of concern.

“There is no law that says a king must know how to wield the Myeolang Flute.”

“What…?”

The Red King’s words shattered everything they had always taken for granted. A king of Geumseong who could not wield the Myeolang Flute? Rayeon was stunned. Never in her life had she imagined such a thing. How could it possibly work? His next words gave her the answer.

“For that reason, I’ll let you live.”

As she realized the miserable future that awaited her brother, Rayeon understood just how blindly the Geum royal family had clung to their assumptions. The Red King was right. A king who could not wield the Myeolang Flute needed only to keep someone who could and compel them to play it. Gyo Geung went pale with fear and thrashed desperately.

“I will never, never…! I won’t play it for the likes of you—argh!”

Apparently tired of Gyo Geung’s noisy protests, the Red King pressed down hard with his foot before lifting it away. He laughed scornfully.

“You’re not the only one who can play the Myeolang Flute.”

Rayeon felt every gaze turn toward her. One pair of eyes, in particular, fixed her with a chilling glare of pure hatred. Her brother’s.

“Geum Rayeon. Yes, I still have you.”

His bloodshot eyes burned with resentment. If he could have, he would have strangled her on the spot. Although they had not grown particularly close over the years, they had shared moments of warmth. Even when they had disagreed bitterly, they had always remained civil.

“So you’ve finally got your wish. Let’s see how well you do.”

He had never sneered at her like this before. It was out of character for him, revealing just how desperate he had become. Jahyang’s reaction was no better.

“How vicious.”

Rayeon could tolerate her brother’s disdain, but Jahyang’s overt hostility hurt her far more.

“I’ll be both a mother and an older sister to you. So you may be as spoiled as you like, Princess.”

“An older sister…? May I really call you that?”

“Of course. Call me that whenever you like. There’s no need to be so formal with me.”

No one had ever shown Rayeon such warmth before. Jahyang had taught her that love could be stronger than family ties, and she had surrendered to this idea, unable to tear herself away. She had revealed every flaw and vulnerable part of herself, knowing full well that warmth eventually turns to cold.

Where had it all gone wrong? Rayeon had asked herself that question countless times. Whenever she traced the pain back to its source, she came to the same bitter realization: her existence had been wrong from the moment of her conception. Every calamity had begun with her.

“Shall I tell you how you were born?”

Gyo Geung’s bloodshot eyes seemed on the verge of bleeding as he gasped and shouted at her. Rayeon trembled at the memory. Then a cold command reached her ears.

“Lock him up.”

The moment the order was given, two soldiers stepped forward and hauled Gyo Geung to his feet. Rayeon had already seen the Red King’s men work efficiently before.

Before her brother could protest, they gagged him and tied his hands behind his back. Watching him being led away like a criminal, Jahyang let out a low, wounded m*an. A heartbeat later, she fainted.

“Jahyang!”

Rayeon’s cry mingled with Gyo Geung’s muffled shouts, but neither made any difference. The Red King had already signaled for Jahyang to be taken next. However bitter things had become between them, Rayeon could not bear to see Jahyang being treated so roughly. With her brother still in the room, she struggled to find her voice.

“I will cooperate. There is no need to be cruel to a defenseless woman.”

She could almost hear Gyo Geung’s scorn ringing in her ears. Had he not been gagged, he would have accused her of scheming to save herself alone.

‘Look at her. How cunning. And she dares call herself a princess of this kingdom?’

But with his tongue pinned down, all he could do was laugh loudly enough for her to hear. It felt as though her flesh were being sliced open, yet Rayeon struggled to steady herself. She had to do what she could.

“I will do whatever you ask. Please, let Her Majesty rest.”

The man answered as though he found her absurd.

“Do you think you’re in any position to make demands?”

He was right. The moment he claimed the throne, Rayeon’s title lost all meaning. Her life was like a candle in the wind, ready to flicker out at any moment. Jahyang was no longer queen either. He had no reason to show her any courtesy.

Only yesterday, he had been the son of a traitor. Now, Rayeon and the rest of the royal family were corrupt remnants to be swept away.

Instead of asking him to let Jahyang rest, she should have been begging him to spare her life. Rayeon bowed her head. Begging had long since ceased to feel humiliating. She had done it countless times since childhood.

“…I am sorry… if I overstepped.”

Did she have no pride? Seok Haegyeong looked down at the princess contemptuously. How quickly she had changed her manner! Then again, given the rumors about her, he should hardly have been surprised.

Apparently, she regularly brought men into Yeonhwa Palace, demanding jewelry in return for sleeping with her. She had even sent the queen a potion to induce a miscarriage. The queen had lost her child and was now unable to conceive again, thanks to her vicious scheme.

Out of consideration for his grieving wife, the king had taken no concubines. Yet the loss of his precious child at the hands of his cruel sister had shaken him deeply. Gradually, he neglected the affairs of state.

Under the pretext of comforting the queen, he held banquets almost every day, sinking into extravagance and pleasure as though there were no tomorrow.

Seok Haegyeong studied the princess who had set the kingdom’s downfall in motion. Her face was eerily pale. Her lowered eyes avoided his, making him wonder if they had ever truly seen anything. Her tightly pressed lips suggested stubbornness, and her gaunt figure was unattractive. The prospect of spending his days with this woman irritated him.

“How do you know what I might ask of you?”

The princess was destined for misery. Had she known that all the time she had left would be filled with humiliation, she would never have presumed to set conditions.

“How can you so carelessly declare that you’ll do anything I want?”

“…”

“Well? Princess.”

Though he dutifully called her princess, the careless way he tipped up her chin was arrogance itself.

***

Jahyang’s fainting spell was brief, but by the time she opened her eyes, she had been moved to Yeonhwa Palace. Upon hearing her groan, Rayeon sprang to her feet. Out of habit, she almost called for the royal physician, but then she remembered her situation and stopped. It was unlikely that he would send one just because Jahyang had fainted.

“How are you feeling?”

“Why am I here?”

Two years had passed since the medicine sent by Rayeon resulted in the loss of Jahyang’s unborn child. During that time, she had not returned to Yeonhwa Palace once. She wouldn’t even go near it. Whenever her route took her near the palace, she would take a long detour to avoid it.

Yet she recognized the place immediately because she had once visited so often. Before their relationship soured, Jahyang had spent more time in Yeonhwa Palace than in Jain Palace.

They had been together almost every day, and even talking from morning until night had never seemed enough.

On one occasion, Jahyang had even begged Gyo Geung to let her spend the night at Yeonhwa Palace. He was utterly baffled. If they had been miles away from Jain Palace, he could have understood, but what was the point of staying overnight when they were both within the same palace walls?

Concerned about what others might think, Rayeon tried to dissuade her, although secretly she was delighted.

She had never experienced such tender affection before and sometimes hardly knew how to receive it.

Doubt crept in again and again. Did she truly deserve this happiness? Was it merely a mirage, a dream that would vanish the moment she tried to grasp it?

It was neither a mirage nor a dream. Yet her fears had come true all the same. Without even looking at her, Jahyang asked coldly.

“And why are you here, Princess?”

Once they were close, they dispensed with formalities whenever they were alone, speaking to each other as naturally as sisters would. As Rayeon carefully chose her words, recalling a past that now seemed like a distant dream, Jahyang offered a guess.

“His Majesty was dragged to prison because he refused to cooperate. Yet here you are, safely back in your own palace. I take it you agreed to that man’s demands?”

“…”

It was true, so she had nothing to say in her defense. Fearing that even an explanation would sound like an excuse, Rayeon spoke quietly.

“Your Majesty had collapsed. I could not simply stand by.”

“Oh, how fortunate for you that I happened to faint just then.”