Yeon gently bit her lip. Now that she thought about it, the baby emperor was Suin’s betrothed, too. For a child like that to be suffering from a constant fever, her master must be deeply troubled.

“I heard they’re looking for a nanny. Both Princess Sukon and your master seem to think you’re the right person for the job.”

“What? What do you mean…?”

Yeon, who had been slumped with her shoulders hunched while thinking about the infant emperor, blinked in confusion and parted her lips in dismay. She felt sorry for the emperor — or rather, the baby — but she couldn’t fathom how she could possibly become his nanny.

“You’d better go now.”

“Ah, ma’am. But…”

“Ahem. Your father—no, your master—is waiting for you.”

Gadeok’s expression turned stern. Yeon paled, blinked a few times, then nodded slightly.

When she met Princess Sukon again, the princess welcomed her with the same unwearied grace as before.

Yeon swallowed dryly and sat down in front of her. If the princess truly intended to appoint her as the emperor’s nanny, it would be a disaster. She had no idea how to refuse and began to sweat with stress.

“Child, lift your head for me.”

Princess Sukon spoke in a calm voice, gently urging her. Still nervous, Yeon cautiously raised her head. Up close, the princess was a refined and dignified beauty. Yeon stared at the noblewoman, who was draped in exquisitely embroidered silk. Her lips parted slightly in awe.

Suddenly, the princess offered her some warm tea and a dried apple, but she didn’t feel like eating or drinking anything. She merely fiddled with the teacup, stealing glances at her master.

Despite having three children, the handsome man showed no sign of ageing. Yet today, his face looked especially indifferent and cold. Yeon recalled him recently searching for his mother. That low voice calling out, “Soso”…

The urgent tone had pierced her heart like a plea. Yeon tried desperately to forget that early morning when their eyes had met beneath the covers.

The white ceremonial robe tangled around her mother’s bare body was thin and dishevelled. Shaking his head, Yeon forced the unwanted memory away.

“I have young nieces and nephews, they lost their mother not long ago.”

The princess’s voice was calm and delicate. With a pale face, Yeon thought of the baby who had lost his mother. The Empress Dowager’s death — virtually a suicide — had shaken not only the Western Palace, but the entire nation.

Amidst the chaos, it was said that the baby hadn’t been able to eat properly. He was constantly feverish, vomiting up what little he ate, and crying himself to sleep — he was just like Suin had been long ago. Caught in a cycle of shrill cries and restless sleep, the little one seemed heartbreakingly pitiful to Yeon.

He must be so miserable and tragic. Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes.

Yeon gently bit her lip. Despite her young age and lowly status, Princess Sukon was asking Yeon for help without hesitation. Yeon found herself wanting to help the child. If she could be of any use, she would be. The princess already looked at her as if she were someone exceptional.

Suddenly, Yeon’s chest felt heavy. She turned her head, thinking of Suin. Even when she had a mother at her side, Suin had cried like that. Even when she was cradled in her arms, she cried and screamed as if begging to be taken to her. If she cried like that despite having a mother, how much more would that child cry without one?

Or rather, how mournfully must Yeon’s own mother have cried?

***

Until the day Yeon left for the imperial palace, her mother knelt outside the Western Lord’s bedchamber, begging him not to take her daughter away. She kept saying it was her fault, pleading over and over again.

Yeon was worried about her mother’s fragile health. Even kneeling for half an hour was enough to make her fall ill with a fever. It was the middle of winter and she had been kneeling for half the day — her body could not possibly endure it. All Yeon could do was stay by her side and feel helpless.

She sobbed quietly, hugging her frail mother close. Her mother clung to her as though she would never let anyone take her only daughter away. Then, when the dark ceremonial robes appeared outside the chamber doors, she ran like a madwoman.

She tore off her thin jacket and threw it aside.

“My lord, please! Please look at me! I beg you, if only for my sake…”

Her mother had lost her senses. She loosened the knot at her chest and pressed her overflowing br*asts against him. Behind the Western Lord, the mistress trembled and silently signalled to the maidservants.

Yeon stood frozen with terror, afraid that the servants would seize her mother’s black hair and throw her onto the cold floor.

“Soso.”

The Western Lord called her mother’s name. His large hand grasped her br*ast fully. Her mother began to tremble, tears streaming down her pale face. He removed his robe and draped it over her shoulders, then lifted her into his arms.

Yeon followed him as he walked away.

From then on, her mother did everything in her power to stop Yeon from being taken. She snuck into the Western Lord’s bedchamber n*ked, threw tantrums, and threatened to hang herself — she tried everything. But none of it changed the fact that Yeon was going to enter the palace.

And so, it was a deep, unforgiving night—long past noon, when her mother had hung herself.

Yeon knelt in her master’s bedchamber.

“Master, it’s me.”

Her voice was damp and barely audible. Time passed in silence before a familiar shadow appeared in the room. Yeon cautiously raised her head.

“My lord…”

A large hand grasped her sleeve and gently pulled her up. Still on her knees, Yeon stood up shakily, creaking like an old hinge. He steadied her and lifted her into his arms. The sight reminded her of how he had carried her mother not long ago.

“Your mother?”

He asked, sitting her down opposite him. She swallowed hard, fighting back tears.

Princess Sukon’s suggestion was tantamount to an imperial order. Although she spoke gently, Yeon knew it was not something she could refuse. Besides which, her master, the Western Lord, also intended to send her to the palace.

The emperor was Suin’s betrothed, and Yeon had devotedly cared for the sickly, sensitive Suin from a young age. So naturally, they now wanted her to care for the ailing emperor.

Yeon had no intention of resisting. She was just worried about her mother.

“She’s asleep.”

“Don’t worry about your mother.”

“But she has no one else.”

Yeon lowered her head. Her mother always said that. “You’re all I have left.” You’re everything to me.” Just as her mother was Yeon’s whole world, Yeon was everything to her.

But…

“I’m afraid something might happen to her.”

“Your mother will bear another child.”

“What?”

Yeon blinked in shock. The Western Lord said no more. Her heart raced as she tried to make sense of his words. Her chest heaved. The memory of that early morning tried to flood her mind, but she pushed it away.

“But…”

“Focus only on caring for His Majesty, the young emperor.”

“Yes.”

Yeon gave a small nod.

The following day, she entered the palace.

After bowing to her mother, who was lying in bed with a fever and unable to look at her properly, Yeon followed the court lady sent by Princess Sukon into the palace.

***

The baby, His Majesty, was tiny and fragile. Yet despite this, he was so adorable with his pale face and large, round, black eyes that he resembled a fluffy white rice cake puppy. Yeon couldn’t help but smile at him.

Even at this early age, his features were clearly defined, and Yeon thought he would probably grow up to be tall and handsome.

For now, however, he looked as sickly as he was small.

Yeon quietly watched the emperor, nestled in Yuwon’s arms, turn his head away and refuse to feed. By this age, he should have started eating porridge, but he wouldn’t even allow food to be brought to his lips.

He could barely manage to take milk, and now he had rejected that too. The Grand Empress Dowager said she couldn’t sleep at night worrying about his condition.

Yeon looked down at the emaciated child who could barely eat. Even Suin had never been this thin.

At an age when he should have been toddling around and giggling in his mother’s arms, the baby’s sunken cheeks and hollow expression broke Yeon’s heart.

What did it matter if he was the Son of Heaven, the highest being in the sky? Lying there on the bedding, barely stirring, he was just a baby who had lost his mother.

“Do you see this? He can’t feed properly anymore.”

Yuwon, the woman holding the baby.

She was no ordinary nursemaid, once belonging to the household of Princess Sukon, who had married into the Yeongbyeong Marquisate.

It was she who had raised the princess’s four children.

Yeon silently observed the woman, her kindly face clouded with worry.

It was noon. The baby, who had been whimpering all morning and calling for his mother, was now too exhausted to cry properly. His little face turned red as he emitted weak, breathy murmurs.

Yuwon undid the front of herS robe and tried to nurse him, but he spat out the n*pple and flailed his frail limbs in refusal.

Yeon swallowed hard.

If Yuwon, who had raised a marquess’s four children, was sweating with nervousness, how could she possibly care for this baby properly?