Feeling content, Yeon accepted the rice cake offered to her by the child and took a bite.

“It’s delicious, Your Majesty. You should try some too.”

She said, chewing and speaking to the baby. Now able to sit upright on the cushion, the child simply looked at Yeon’s gently curved lips. Finding the baby adorable, Yeon smiled faintly.

Suddenly, memories of the past winter came to mind. It hadn’t been that long, yet it felt distant. Perhaps it was because so much had happened in such a short time.

Yeon traced the drifting memories.

‘Once, my former master packed this rice cake for me.’

Her gaze dropping to the side. Her mother came to mind again.

Until they met again, she had tried not to think of her too often. It wouldn’t be long now though; Princess Sukon had said her mother was still bedridden.

Yeon’s shoulders slumped at the thought. She nodded, resisting the sudden urge to run to her mother’s side. Whenever she caught a cold, her mother would often spend the whole season in bed. Even Lady Yangtae and Madam Gadeok would click their tongues in disapproval. So it was understandable that she still hadn’t recovered.

Her mother cherished her deeply. She would always say, ‘You’re the only one I have, Sisi.’

Yeon tried not to picture her mother’s pale face. Princess Sukon had promised that once spring arrived, she would make sure Yeon saw her mother. As Yeon couldn’t leave the emperor’s side, the princess offered to bring her mother to the palace instead.

She wasn’t someone who made empty promises — Yeon believed she would keep her word.

As she waited for spring, Yeon gazed out of the round window. Just then, a court lady hurried across the courtyard. Surprised, Yeon watched her closely. The girl was a young maid under the supervision of Senior Lady Noh.

Yeon’s body tensed. Had something happened again? In the palace, you could never predict what might happen.

But the reason behind the girl’s urgency was something Yeon had never expected.

“Your mother has passed away.”

The woman who had rushed in coughed several times to catch her breath, then looked at Yeon with sorrowful eyes.

At first, Yeon couldn’t comprehend what she had just heard; she stared blankly at the woman.

“Yeon.”

“What… what do you mean? My mother…”

“Your mother is bedridden. She was heartbroken when you left. From a young age, she was delicate and struggled with physical labour. The Lady and Lord of the Western Province were aware of this and only ever gave her light chores.”

They said that Yeon’s mother was doing well in the Western Province anyway. Princess Sukon had said so herself.

Yeon’s expression darkened with displeasure.

“If you tease me like this, I’ll tell Her Highness.”

“Yeon. I understand how you must feel, but—”

“Stop it!”

Yeon rose abruptly to her feet. Above all, she could not tolerate anyone insulting her delicate mother.

Her hands trembled as she clenched her fists tightly. The young court lady, looking pale with fright, quickly stood up too.

“Her Highness the Princess will be entering the palace soon. Once she arrives, you will hear everything in detail. For now…”

“I told you to stop!”

Yeon snapped, her lips pressed together so tightly that she was trembling.

***

Yeon kept asking herself why her mother had died.

No matter how much she heard, no matter how detailed the explanations were, she couldn’t understand. Hearing that the funeral had already taken place was too much.

Until Princess Sukon entered the palace, Yeon sat trembling with the baby in her arms. Just ten days ago, they had said her mother was doing well. Although she had struggled to swallow even rice gruel for a while, she had recently started eating thin porridge again.

“Don’t worry too much. She’ll recover soon.”

Princess Sukon had written in a letter. Unable to read independently, Yeon received the news with the help of a court lady.

“Yeon.”

Hours had passed since she had shut herself away in Yanmyeong Hall with the young emperor in her arms. She didn’t even notice the child’s tiny hand brushing her cheek and eyelid when a familiar voice finally called out to her.

Yeon’s eyelids quivered.

Through the round window, the dimming red sun streamed in. Leaning against the wall of the hall with the emperor in her arms, she slowly looked up at the princess.

She looked no different from a few days ago — calm, composed, and firm.

Yeon remembered her vow from earlier that day: she wouldn’t believe anything until the princess came and explained everything herself. The court lady had told her to wait and do just that.

“Your Highness…”

“About your mother…”

“That’s not true, is it? My mother is…”

Yeon shot to her feet and shook her head in denial. Her voice caught in her throat and she was unable to speak properly. Her lips merely opened and closed like a fish out of water.

Her mother would be fine. Yes, her health had deteriorated, but they’d said she was recovering. That court lady must have made it up just to frighten her.

Yeon looked up at the princess with desperate eyes.

But the woman averted her gaze.

Her heart pounded wildly. She felt a surge of heat and her vision blurred and cleared repeatedly. The young emperor tugged at the hem of her skirt. Suddenly, her vision dimmed again. Without realising that she was losing consciousness, Yeon closed her eyes.

She woke up just before dawn.

The first thing she saw was the young emperor’s face. His chubby cheeks and round eyes made him look older than his years as he stared down at her.

She realised that her senses had dulled so much that she couldn’t feel the child’s small hand brushing her cheek. Her fever was far too high.

She hadn’t felt this hot in recent days. She didn’t know what had caused it.

“This isn’t right. I need to go to the Western Province. Right now.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to push herself up from the floor. But the princess stopped her, gently saying, ‘Stay lying down.’

Yeon shook her aching head. She had to go to the Western Province and see it for herself. She had to see the empty room where her mother had once lain. Until then…

“That can’t be true.”

“I know how you feel. But…”

“You promised me I’d see her. I—I believed only that.”

That promise was the only thing that had got her through until now.

Until she could see her mother again. Until they could live together again. No matter how hard or frightening it was, she endured it all. No matter how weary or broken she felt.

Her mother was the centre of her world.

“I don’t need anything else.”

That was all Yeon said as she pushed her heavy body up.

Strangely, once she had made up her mind to die, her steps became light. They used to say that one had to walk gracefully in the palace. The court ladies had often scolded her for her sprightly, childlike gait.

But now, none of that mattered. If she was going to die anyway, what was there to be afraid of?

She began running towards the well she had seen once before.

In the dim blue light of dawn, she ran until she was breathless.

At last, she arrived.

She stopped and slowly approached the frozen well.

“Haa… haa…”

Yeon’s tears wouldn’t stop. They streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision. She looked into the well, biting her lips tightly. The dark water rippled below.

Suddenly, she remembered a story about a concubine who had thrown herself into a well. No, she wasn’t one of the late emperor’s concubines – she must have belonged to an earlier generation. Although the early days of the empire didn’t span many generations, Yeon couldn’t remember them all clearly.

The tale was of a court lady who had displeased the empress and been thrown into a well to her death. They said the well still existed somewhere in the palace, but Yeon didn’t know if it was this one.

Unlike the other court ladies, Yeon wasn’t familiar with many parts of the palace.

At least the ladies of the Yanmyeong court knew the layout of a few adjacent halls. But once Yeon left Yanmyeong, she couldn’t find her way back.

It was only natural. Yeon had always been beside the emperor.

Having just turned one, the emperor rarely left Yanmyeong Garden. Even paying a visit to his grandmother, the Grand Empress Dowager, was too much for him. No one could expect more from a baby of just over a year old.

Consequently, Yeon had always been confined to Yanmyeong with the child.

The baby never allowed her to leave his side. If she stepped out of his sight, he would start to whimper and cry until she returned.

Fearing that she might upset the emperor, the other court ladies discouraged Yeon from venturing beyond the hall. She slept beside him and ate with him — her entire world was confined to his bedchamber.

“Hh… h-heuuu…”

Unable to hold back any longer, Yeon broke down and sobbed, her tears pouring forth in great, shuddering waves.