His p*nis pressed firmly against her most sensitive spot. Despite having already made love once, he was still hard.

Uncertain of what to do next, Yeon lingered in a haze. Without warning, Ryu pushed her down again. Dazed, she stared up at him; her rising desire left her at a loss. All she could do was reach up and gently touch the cheek of the young man looking down at her so intensely.

His sharp eyes were clouded with aching desire. Then, without hesitation, Ryu claimed her lips. Yeon held her breath as his fervent, longing touch continued, carrying them through the night until the first light of dawn.

***

Yeon gazed at the jade that had been given to her by the emperor. The imperial House of Yan cherished jade. Gold had its price, but jade was said to be priceless.

Therefore, Ryu also preferred to adorn Yeon with brilliant azure jade. However, as Yeon herself was not particularly interested in jewellery unless it was a gift from the Empress Dowager, she usually sold the pieces to fund her scholarly projects in Seoguk.

“If you share them with Lady Suin again, His Majesty will be very angry.”

Yeon glanced briefly at the woman’s round, harvest-moon-like face before opening the next jewellery box.

Inside were twenty pearls and ten rubies. There was also a jade hairpin adorned with pheasant feathers, a gold floral-shaped pin, a pearl ornament, and decorative pins resembling butterflies and windflowers. A variety of hair accessories had arrived alongside the silk.

“How could I possibly use all of this by myself?”

“But it’s all yours, miss.”

“Be precise. You and I are just maids…”

“Miss!”

Mansuk exclaimed in horror. Yeon raised her sleeve and giggled. She wasn’t lying, and watching the girl tremble like that was rather endearing.

Two days ago, a letter had arrived from the Seoguk residence. The mistress had written to summon Yeon to bring the Emperor and attend the celebration for Suin’s upcoming birthday.

Yeon had no right to refuse. She had always been a slave born to that household. Entering the palace hadn’t changed that fact, nor had it severed the ties.

Even now, Yeon—who hadn’t even become a proper concubine—was still considered a servant of the Gyeong Bohyeon family, including Suin.

No matter how much favor she received from the Emperor, she could never be anything more than a concubine

Yeon didn’t consider the matter to be regrettable. In fact, he thought it was necessary for such an event to occur at least once before the arranged marriage. The Emperor was far too distant with his betrothed. It somehow felt like it was her fault, and Yeon could understand the concerns of both the Empress Dowager and the Duchess.

Wasn’t that true? He was of an age where he should have had a proper empress and heirs, yet he remained alone, without even a concubine. It was excessive to cling to just one woman like that. And Yeon had never told him to do so.

Given the circumstances, Suin was in an uncomfortable position as well. She was approaching twenty-five, which made her three years older than the emperor. A woman from a powerful family would probably have had two children by that age. It wasn’t plausible to blame her health either — Suin’s condition had significantly improved since she turned nineteen.

So, in many ways, this situation was not ideal. It was awkward for Yeon and undoubtedly nerve-wracking for Suin. Despite the immense power of the Gyeong Bohyeon family — enough to bring down a flying bird — this meant little in the face of the young Emperor, who had inherited his late father’s fiercely domineering nature. Only one person could influence him:

“How could I possibly keep all of this to myself, considering Lady Suin’s dignity? Let’s choose some gifts together. She likes pearls, doesn’t she?”

“Her Highness Princess Sukon said it would be best to leave matters like that to His Majesty.”

Mansuk interrupted, invoking the name of Princess Sukon. She was the Emperor’s aunt and the elder sister of the late Emperor.

Yeon turned her gaze towards Mansuk, whose gentle features concealed a quiet ambition.

Mansuk said that she didn’t want to go back to the Seoguk residence. Instead of spending her life as a servant doing chores for the Gyeong Bohyeon household, she dreamed of being treated with dignity as a court lady in the palace and retiring with a substantial fortune.

She said that she didn’t need a husband or children, which is why Yeon had become her role model and her inspiration for the future. Sadly, Yeon could not fulfil that hope.

“Mansuk.”

“Yes?”

“The Empress must enter the palace before I can even receive a concubine title, don’t you think?”

“You say that, but I won’t be fooled.”

“Do you think I’m trying to deceive you?”

“You turned down the title of Gui-in. His Majesty wanted to officially appoint you as a concubine, but you refused. Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

“That was…”

“Lady Suin is in a completely different position to you. You have no reason to be so considerate of her.”

“You shouldn’t speak like that.”

“Lady Suin has the support of a powerful family and the Empress Dowager herself. All you have is His Majesty’s favour. You don’t even have a child. This is no time to be sitting around so peacefully…”

Mansuk let out a heavy sigh. She was clearly eager for Yeon to rise quickly to the rank of senior palace maid, but Yeon’s refusal to support her ambitions was frustrating her.

Yeon turned her gaze away from her maid, whose shoulders slumped in quiet disappointment. Unlike Yeon, Mansuk held formal status as a palace lady and was officially her superior.

And yet she had chosen to serve Yeon, defying the usual palace hierarchy rules. After all, Yeon was just a woman of the inner chambers — someone who had even turned down the Emperor’s offer of a concubine title, as Mansuk had reminded her time and again.

Was there still a part of her that held onto hope? Yeon couldn’t say. She had never allowed herself to search for hope within these palace walls. She was already thirty. The beauty that Mansuk so often admired, and which gave her a little power, would eventually fade.

Everything she had would slip through her fingers in time. Beauty. Favour. They were never meant to last.

Mansuk urged Yeon to have an heir, but she refused to bring a child into the world only to abandon them to the palace. That wasn’t something a mother should do.

Mansuk dreamed of saving her earnings, leaving the palace behind, and living in comfort. Yeon, on the other hand, yearned for a quiet exit — one where she could marry an ordinary man from humble beginnings. But with a child, that dream would disappear.

They always said that giving birth didn’t guarantee the title of concubine. However, this only applied when there were plenty of imperial heirs.

Emperor Ryu had no children. If Yeon were to give birth to his child, she would be forced into the role of concubine, whether she wanted it or not. Even if Suin entered the palace as empress and gave the emperor a legitimate heir, that wouldn’t change.

“How could I bear a child before the empress has even stepped into the palace?”

“Imagine it from her perspective – how would a noblewoman feel knowing her fiancé still clings to his first love and refuses to let her go? Wouldn’t that be unbearable?’

“Why should you consider Lady Suin’s feelings?”

Mansuk sharply retorted. Her eyes narrowed, giving her usually round face a surprisingly fierce look. Mansuk disliked Suin, considering her a rival to Yeon’s position.

But Suin was not Yeon’s rival. Yeon did not love Ryu.

“It’s just a manner of speaking.”

“You’re too carefree, miss.”

“What’s wrong with being carefree?”

At that moment, the resonant voice of an attendant announced the emperor’s arrival. Both women quickly rose, preparing themselves to greet him.

“We greet His Imperial Majesty.”

Yeon said, gracefully lowering herself onto her knees. Ryu approached and gently raised her up. He appeared handsome as always today, his fine features clear beneath the neat arrangement of his hair, secured with a golden crown.

Perhaps he had come straight from official business; he looked slightly tired. As Mansuk discreetly stepped back, Yeon instructed her to prepare refreshments.

Once Mansuk had disappeared, Ryu buried his face into Yeon’s delicate shoulder, indulging himself in childish affection.

“Your Majesty.”

“The Vice Minister of Rites was difficult today. Yesterday, it was the Minister of Revenue.”

The young man’s deep voice echoed in her ears. Yeon gently patted his broad back. Silently, she offered sympathy to yesterday’s Minister of Revenue and today’s Vice Minister of Rites.

Though Ryu appeared endlessly gentle, that tenderness was meant for her alone. The image of the handsome young man—so striking it once seemed unthinkable he could be related to someone capable of ruthless slaughter—was beginning to fade from memory.

Blood, after all, could never be diluted. Towards nearly everyone but Yeon, Ryu was authoritarian, indifferent, and ruthless — almost as heartless as his father had been. He was utterly strict and resolute in matters of governance and the inner court alike.

Perhaps this made Yeon special, as she was the sole recipient of the emperor’s indulgence. Yet even that affection was no more than the complaints of a child who had lost his mother too soon.

“You say that, but I know you’ve handled it well.”

“And what would you know about it, Yeon?’

He raised his head from her shoulder, his eyes still filled with childish complaint.