“I never thought you would be the one to do something like that.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She said this after clearing the table. While pouring a cup of warm tea for Ryu, Yeon looked up. Ryu, who had been watching her with an unreadable expression, smiled faintly, as if to acknowledge that she had done well.

Yeon lowered her gaze. Clearly, he was referring to the imprisonment of Yanggyo. But wasn’t imprisoning someone who had committed a crime the right thing to do, whether or not they confessed?

By now, Yanggyo was probably trembling and crying in her cell. There was no other way, though. Yeon thought of Okbin, who was said to be bedridden. Unlike Han Sangjae, who always finished her meals, Okbin hadn’t eaten properly for days.

“I have something to tell you, Your Majesty.”

“What is it?”

He asked, reaching his arm towards her after taking a sip of tea. Yeon instinctively nestled into his embrace. His broad, firm chest was warm. As she pressed her face against it, she caught the faint scent of chrysanthemums.

Sharing this tender, loving Ryu with anyone else was unthinkable. Perhaps what had happened to the two concubines was also her fault.

Maybe they were just innocent bystanders caught up in a selfish power struggle fuelled by ambition and desire. In that case, she had to protect them — at least from a severe execution.

“You wish to plead for Okbin and Han Sangjae’s lives, don’t you?”

“Your Majesty…”

“I know you have a kind heart, but your desire to spare them cannot be seen as compassion.”

“I know they were foolish. I know they committed serious crimes. But if you think about it, perhaps they had no other choice.”

Yeon began to speak more quickly. ‘They hadn’t received any imperial favour, so they hadn’t been able to focus solely on raising a royal heir during their time in the palace.’ Separated from their families at a young age, they were brought into the court. Yet the emperor — their husband — never embraced them or showed them any affection, because his affections were reserved for someone else. Of course they must have felt miserable.

“I’m not asking for them to be spared punishment. I’m just asking you to consider their circumstances.”

“Lady Gwi.”

“If they lose their lives like that, I won’t be the same either. Ultimately, they became who they are because of me…”

“Gyeong Seol-yeon.”

Ryu called her name sternly. Yeon swallowed her tears. She didn’t even know why she was crying — it wasn’t about her at all — and yet she couldn’t help it.

The heavy burden that had been pressing down on her heart all this time, choking her like a lump of lead around her neck, was pouring out now. Yeon’s tears began to fall, one by one.

“I could never share you with them, Your Majesty. I could never be sisters with the women who share you.”

Yeon confessed her love. No matter what, she couldn’t bear to share Ryu — the man she loved — with anyone else.

He was her husband. The father of her beloved Bam-tteok. Therefore, in a way, the adultery committed by Okbin and Han Sangjae was also her fault. Her love had left them feeling lonely and abandoned.

Had she understood Ryu’s feelings from the beginning and accepted his love more fully, perhaps he wouldn’t have brought those women into the palace.

“So, please…I beg you, Your Majesty. I’m pleading like this. Please send Lady Geum Dabeung back to her family. Let those two at least be spared from execution.”

Yeon clasped her hands together. Ryu gave no reply. His dark gaze pierced her like needles.

Yeon buried her face in his chest, her eyes misting over. When her shoulders began to tremble with quiet sobs, Ryu lifted his hand and gently stroked her back.

“I hate that I can’t help but give in to you.”

He murmured the words like a sigh. Yeon didn’t respond, simply nestling deeper into his embrace.

—

It was still dawn, before morning broke. Yeon headed to Yeongchun Palace.

Despite the sudden visit, Han Sangjae was remarkably calm — almost as if she had always known this day would come.

It was difficult to read her thoughts. Her pale, reserved face looked delicate, yet there was also a quiet strength to her expression. Yeon lowered her gaze for a moment.

She wasn’t sure what to say first. Should she ask why she did it? Or what on earth she was thinking, getting involved in an affair and becoming pregnant as a result?

But all of those questions seemed pointless. She wasn’t in any position to ask them.

“Is it today? The day I’ll be dragged out of Yeongchun Palace…”

Han Sangjae was the first to speak. Yeon lifted her gaze and looked at the woman in silence.

Her grandfather was said to be a great scholar. Her family was certainly among the most distinguished — on a par with Okbin’s, whose background was often praised. Although her father’s generation had experienced a decline, her household remained the wealthiest in Pyeongju.

If only she had considered her family’s standing once…

Yeon bit down on her lip.

“You already know, don’t you?”

“Know what?”

“Who the father of my child is.”

“Lady Han Sangjae.”

At Yeon’s firm tone, the woman laughed. It was a clear, graceful laugh — completely different to Okbin’s, who had clung to her in fear. This woman looked as if she could walk to her execution with her head held high.

“Or are you not even curious?”

Han Sangjae sneered as if that were beneath Yeon’s concern. But Yeon only stared back at her calmly. The woman gave a short, amused laugh and nodded.

“Of course. In the world of the Royal Noble Consort, there are only two people: His Majesty and the Crown Prince.”

The quiet murmur was borderline insulting. Yeon tried not to react. Without flinching, she met her gaze and finally opened her mouth.

“What were you planning to do about the baby?”

“Is that what you’re curious about?”

“At the very least, I’m a mother.”

“The child will share its mother’s fate.”

“…”

“Since you already know everything…”

“You think I’d harm the child?”

“Then were you planning to let me live? Did His Majesty say he would allow that?”

Han Sangjae’s voice was sharp with disbelief. Facing the woman, who was barely holding back her fury, Yeon chose her words carefully.

Geum Dabeung would be sent back to her family home. Whether she would be permitted to remarry was still to be decided, but her return to her parents was certain.

As for Okbin and Han Sangjae, Yeon still didn’t know what to do.

They had committed crimes and couldn’t avoid punishment.

But what about Han Sangjae’s child?

It would be too cruel for an unborn baby to bear the weight of its parents’ sins. Yeon could never allow that.

“I’ll ask only once. Who is the child’s father?”

“My lady…”

“You can’t raise the baby after all.”

“If I’m going to be executed, isn’t the child’s father as good as dead too? Shouldn’t he be given an even harsher punishment?”

Han Sangjae sneered coldly. She couldn’t stand the idea that Yeon was showing concern for the baby. Yeon held back her anger. The reason for Han Sangjae’s hostility was clear: she blamed Yeon for everything that had happened to her.

Yeon didn’t want to deny it.

In this vast, lonely palace, Han Sangjae had never once received a glance from her husband. He had pretended to sleep with her just to provoke the woman he truly loved, humiliating Han Sangjae in the process. Now, he treated her like unwanted baggage.

If the emperor had shown her even a shred of normalcy or shared a little affection, perhaps she wouldn’t have made such a desperate choice. So…

“I don’t wish for your death. At the very least, I… I don’t want that.”

Yeon said, finally releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. And that was the truth. She didn’t know how Han Sangjae would receive it. Even if she were accused of hypocrisy, Yeon had already made up her mind to save her.

Even if she couldn’t raise the child because of the sin she’d committed, she couldn’t bring herself to take her life. So…

“If you were to die, I would feel wretched and miserable too.”

“My lady…”

“I know what duty I must bear.”

“I can’t understand you.”

The woman, as sharp as shattered glass, shook her head. Yeon gave a faint nod in response to her cold, hardened face. Even if she didn’t believe her, there was nothing more Yeon could do.

Then, a single tear fell from Han Sangjae’s dark eyes.

“Was it because Your Majesty’s man humiliated me? How did that make you feel?”

“Han Sangjae.”

“You pity me, don’t you?”

She gave a short, bitter laugh. Yeon looked at the woman, who was struggling not to cry. Her gaze was distant. Then Yeon turned her head away.

The sky was beginning to brighten. Yeon rose from her seat.

Han Sangjae sat in a daze, staring at the faint light of dawn streaming through the round window.

Yeon gave her one last glance, illuminated by the faint light of dawn, before turning to leave.