Was this really the only way? He had considered this possibility when planning his revenge. Even if he kept the Geum siblings alive to wield the Myeolang Flute, they wouldn’t live forever. Eventually, their bloodline would come to an end. Worse still, they might refuse to cooperate when disaster struck.

But what if there were a child of the Geum bloodline?

Such a child would secure the people’s support and offer the surest means of preserving his power for generations. The child could also be held hostage, leaving the princess with little choice but to obey him.

Only one thing made him recoil: the princess herself. He would have to share a bed with the sister of the man who murdered his father. The thought sickened him. Yet there she stood, earnestly seeking his agreement, oblivious to the revulsion churning inside him. Watching her only deepened his resentment.

“You have a point.”

At his assent, the princess let out a small breath of relief.

“I am glad we have reached an understanding.”

Well, was it not a little early to relax? Mocking her premature relief, he gave an order.

“Then undress, Princess.”

The color drained from her small face. She took a wary step back, clutching at her robes in fear.

Given her reputation, his reaction was laughable. Did she think that, just because he was from Pajin, he was unaware of the rumors? He had seen the evidence for himself. Then, still bewildered, she said something even more absurd.

“Without… without even holding a wedding?”

“A wedding.”

Now that her true intentions had finally emerged, Seok Haegyeong’s lips curled into a crooked smile. She was a cunning woman. That explained how she had coyly begun by talking about statecraft and all the rest.

Had she not praised his fitness to rule a kingdom? It seems she had not been judging his worth as a king, but rather considering him as a potential husband. Perhaps he would have felt differently with another woman. But coming from her, it naturally left him feeling disgusted.

Among the many scandals surrounding the princess was the rumor that she coveted her brother’s throne. To think she would try to fulfill that ambition this way.

“You seem to be mistaken.”

Her ambition was absurd. He had no intention of naming the child as his heir. Its Geum blood would make it useful, but nothing more — ensuring that the miraculous power of the Myeolang Flute would remain at his command.

This had been his plan ever since he first considered what to do with the flute. All that remained was to decide how to proceed. The princess’s consent meant nothing to him. The only advantage of Geum Rayeon reaching the same conclusion was that he would not have to force himself on her.

“Princess, there are only two things I want from you.”

He could see that she was frightened by the menacing atmosphere. Yet she did not avert her gaze, looking him straight in the eye. Mildly intrigued, he told her what to do, one task at a time.

“First, bear a child. Second, end your life.”

Neither had anything to do with a wedding. If the princess obeyed without resistance, he could be generous enough to grant her a painless death.

For a moment, she said nothing in the face of that cold, cruel sentence. When she finally spoke, it was only a murmur.

“We cannot forgo the wedding entirely.”

His first impression had been correct. She was stubborn to the core. Though visibly cowed, she refused to yield, calmly saying what she had to say.

“The people will be unsettled. They are bound to condemn us. At the very least, should we not put on our ceremonial robes and pay our respects to Heaven in front of them, however modest the ceremony? Even if it is only for appearances’ sake.”

He had no intention of agreeing with her, but he did give her credit for recognizing her place. When he remained unmoved, the princess let out a soft breath. Then she offered a more tempting reason — the very matter at the heart of their discussion.

“We must also… show the sacred artifact to the people.”

“The Myeolang Flute?”

He seemed interested. The tension in Rayeon’s nerves eased slightly; they had been stretched almost to breaking point. Thankfully, the sacred artefact had caught his attention.

The Myeolang Flute.

Named after the act of extinguishing sorrow, it originated from the deep love that the first king, Geum Manmyeong, had for his people. It had rained on his kingdom for a hundred days and nights. Determined to protect his people from the floods, he worked tirelessly with a shovel as tall as himself, digging channels to divert the water. Yet even after he had exhausted himself, the embankment was close to bursting.

“If the embankment falls, I will become the embankment myself and hold back the flood!”

With that resolute cry, Geum Manmyeong wedged his body into a breach opening in the embankment and plugged it. Drenched through, he soon succumbed to the cold. His body grew as cold as a corpse, and he lost consciousness. In a dream, he found himself facing eyes as deep as water. An immense black dragon, large enough to cover the sky, was staring down at him.

“Insolent mortal, do you dare obstruct my purpose? Beg for mercy, and I will spare your life. Leave that breach.”

“I cannot.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Geum Manmyeong firmly shook his head.

“Even if it costs me my life, how could I begrudge this one small sacrifice if it would save my people?”

Moved by Geum Manmyeong’s sacrifice, the black dragon abandoned its intention to display its majesty by covering heaven and earth with water. As a token of its promise, it snapped off one of its horns and gave it to him.

“Fashion a flute from my horn and play it. When drought splits the earth, rain shall fall. When torrential rains stir up raging waters, it shall calm them.”

A hard, black horn, gleaming with an unearthly light, settled into Geum Manmyeong’s hands. Startled by its icy touch, he opened his eyes and realized that he had fallen asleep briefly and had a dream.

His disappointment lasted only a moment. In his grasp was a piece of black bamboo, about two handspans long. There could be no doubt: the dragon’s horn had transformed into bamboo. He immediately raised it to his lips and blew. As if by magic, the pouring rain stopped.

Geum Manmyeong later named the kingdom Geumseong, becoming its first king. He carved a flute from the dragon’s horn and named it the Myeolang Flute.

Whenever calamity struck, he played the flute and his people were freed from their worries, as the name of the flute promised. Many nations coveted its mysterious power and stole it, but it failed to work in the hands of anyone outside

Geum Manmyeong’s bloodline and instead brought disaster. Each time, it returned to its rightful owner. This was the main reason why the Geum family had been able to pass the throne down uninterrupted for so long.

Rayeon pressed her argument once more.

“The people do not trust you. A proper wedding would at least give them some reassurance.”

“I wonder. Your own reputation hardly seems likely to inspire their trust.”

“That is…”

Geum Rayeon almost told him that Gyo Geung had spread those lies, but she kept quiet. She had declared her innocence countless times, but no one had believed her. Even if Seok Haegyeong believed her, she doubted it would make any difference.

“Their resentment of me and their reverence for the Myeolang Flute are separate matters. If you treat me with respect, they will see it as respect for the flute.”

She had a point. Marrying Geum Rayeon would be the most effective way of appeasing the people. He was surprised that she had suggested it herself. He had thought her a woman consumed by luxury and l*st. But she was a princess by birth. She must have learned something from what she had seen and heard.

“I have studied statecraft.”

Recalling the declaration, in which he had sensed even a hint of pride, Seok Haegyeong smiled crookedly. Perhaps her education had not been entirely wasted.

“In Geumseong, it has always been customary to show the Myeolang Flute to the people on important occasions, for it is a sacred artifact of miraculous power. If we use the wedding to show them that it remains safe and intact, it will be easier to unite them in purpose.”

Seok Haegyeong paused to consider her words. He had never intended to marry her. Having s*x with the princess was one thing, but holding a wedding was another matter entirely. Once she had given him an heir, she would be of little further use to him. Why would he want to marry a woman who would soon become irrelevant?

Yet her argument had merit. He had assembled a small force of elite soldiers for the surprise attack, and they had succeeded in bringing down Geum Gyo Geung and his followers. But seizing the throne had resolved little else. Countless problems still awaited him.

“Very well.”

Although he nodded, he remained unconvinced that the wedding was necessary. With the royal bloodline and the Myeolang Flute safely in the palace, he foresaw no major problems. He believed that the people’s fears would subside over time, and that force and intimidation would silence the nobles’ opposition.

He had agreed to the wedding because he did not want to rule in that manner. If he relied on coercion, what would stop him from becoming another Gyo Geung? Such a reign would also betray the wishes of his late father, Seok Uimyeong.

For generations, the Seok family had earned a living through maritime trade in Pajin, and his father had always ensured that every deal was fair.

“If all I seek is my own gain, how am I any different from a pirate?”

Likewise, if he thought only of his own grievances, he would be no different from Gyo Geung. His revenge was complete. Now, he wanted smooth sailing.

“Then we shall do as you wish.”