When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in the darkness of the Cold Palace.

‘Was that just a dream…?’

Bu-yeong wanted to deny reality. She wanted to run away. To believe it was nothing more than a bad dream. That her father was safe and sound.

But the sharp pain stinging her cheek yanked her mercilessly back to the truth.

“Father… I’m so scared. I’m afraid you’ll follow after Mother.”

Bu-yeong’s father, Seol Ik-jin, was a man widely known for his deep love and devotion to his wife. He had never once raised his voice at her. Even during the long years when they were unable to have children, he shielded her firmly from the reproach of their elders.

He rarely stayed out drinking after court, and from time to time, he would carefully pick a flower and bring it home to her.

But the wife who had finally managed to conceive passed away just days after childbirth from postpartum fever.

From then on, Seol Ik-jin never took another wife or concubine. He simply could not forget the woman he had lost.

He had wanted to follow her in death—but he couldn’t. Because a daughter, who resembled his late wife so dearly, looked up at him with a bright, innocent smile.

From that day on, Seol Ik-jin dedicated the rest of his life to his daughter.

In summer, he bought precious ice, which was nearly impossible to obtain at that time of year, and had it placed in Bu-yeong’s room. In winter, he made sure she wore only the finest outerwear, woven from tightly spun threads of the highest quality.

He personally taught Bu-yeong until she had mastered her first characters, and whenever she wanted to learn more, he would find her the best books and teachers.

He wanted to give her everything she desired. He wanted to lavish her with all the love that he had not been able to give her mother.

He had always granted her wishes — save for one time. Just once, Seol Ik-jin tried to stop her.

“Think carefully, my daughter. The imperial palace is not a place one enters lightly.”

“But, Father, I love His Majesty with all my heart. I don’t think I’ll ever meet someone like him again. If becoming empress worries you, then I’ll enter the palace even as a mere water maid.”

“Bu-yeong!”

Tears welled in Bu-yeong’s eyes as she recalled that day. She couldn’t help but resent the man who had brought both her and her father to this point.

Even after being exiled to the Cold Palace and reduced to a state worse than that of a stray dog, she never hated the Emperor.

After all, when she was first accused of pushing Gok-woo from the fortress wall, and so-called evidence and witness testimony began to emerge, he never doubted her for a moment. He believed in her.

The Emperor had grown up in the palace, where deceit and scheming were second nature. He knew better than anyone how twisted the court could be. He believed that someone was framing Bu-yeong — until Gok-woo returned.

Although the Emperor’s fear grew day by day and he occasionally felt resentment, he never hated her enough to wish her harm.

After all, he was pitiful too, a man who had been forced to abandon the woman he loved overnight.

But the endless torment of the past three years had taken its toll on more than just her flesh and bones; it was now threatening her father’s life too.

Today, for the first time, Bu-yeong hated the Emperor enough to wish him dead.

Had she had a sword, she wouldn’t have hesitated to hold it to his throat. She could endure the insults he’d hurled at her. But imprisoning her father and reducing him to less than human was unforgivable. Hearing that maggots had begun to feast on his flesh and dismissing it as karma crossed a line she could never forgive.

“Father… Perhaps I really should’ve listened to you back then. If I hadn’t become the Empress… none of this would’ve happened.”

It had been a marriage forged against her father’s wishes.

Had she known that their happiness would last not even three months—let alone three years. Had she known the cost would be so devastating. She would never have reached for the Emperor’s side.

Yet no matter how furious she felt, there was nothing Bu-yeong could do.

When morning came, she would wipe the urine-soaked buckets and cling to her pitiful life.

Bu-yeong had no power. No influence to save her father. No strength to sustain her worn-out body. No will left to go on living.

♛༺═════༻♛

Two nights passed, the sun rose again, and the imperial palace was abuzz with activity. Eunuchs hurried about, while the court ladies chattered excitedly — all in preparation for the Grand Banquet celebrating the Empress Dowager’s birthday.

Crimson silk drapes hung from the pillars of the banquet hall, and the character for ‘longevity’ was displayed on the windows and walls. In the royal kitchens, meanwhile, chefs were busy preparing the dishes to be served, while the Ministry of the Interior was busy documenting everything that the palace staff had taken out for the decorations.

While everyone moved in a rush, Bu-yeong was at the well, filling an empty water jar to the brim.

That was when she heard hushed voices nearby.

“Look at Her Majesty’s cheek. Red as if she’d been burned!”

“Tsk! Who does she think she is, speaking out like that in front of him? Acting above her status is bound to get her into trouble.”

“She still thinks she’s a phoenix? She’s nothing more than a barren hen now.”

Three court ladies, their faces ghostly white from the thick layers of powder they wore, were huddled together, gossiping. They were the same ones who had thrown stones at Bu-yeong not long ago.

Unlike the others, these three made a point of following Bu-yeong around just to torment her. Most palace staff and eunuchs only acted rudely towards her when they crossed paths and were in a bad mood, or when they felt sorry for the late Prince Yeon.

But these three were different.

They seemed intent on deliberately tormenting her, as if they had been ordered to do so. In the past, Bu-yeong might have kept quiet to avoid stirring up trouble. But now, there was no reason to.

She met each of their gazes in turn and gave them a mocking smile. One of them frowned, clearly offended.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Even with that thick layer of powder, it hasn’t clumped. I suppose that must be expensive—far beyond what a court lady’s stipend could afford.”

“So what if we got money from someone? What’s it to you?!”

Bu-yeong was now certain they had been bribed—just like the prison guards—to torment her. Given what had happened to her father, it would’ve been strange not to suspect foul play by now.

“All three of you have applied heavy white powder and bright red rouge. Your cheeks are as red as peaches — it must have taken quite an effort.”

“S-So what if we did?!”

“Is Her Majesty jealous because she can’t even afford face powder?”

Bu-yeong let out a dry, high-pitched laugh like a madwoman, then just as quickly wiped the smile from her face.

“So this is your chance—to catch His Majesty’s eye during the banquet.”

“Th-that’s not true!”

“Does the truth matter? If I see it that way, then so will Lady Gwi-bi. And she’ll surely take offense. After all, she’s looked after you so well for throwing that stone at me.”

“We have never once turned our backs on Lady Gwi-bi’s kindness!”

One of the court ladies, flustered, blurted something without thinking. The woman beside her jabbed her in the side, shooting her a look to shut up. Only then did the one who had dared speak of Lady Gwi-bi’s “favor” quickly cover her mouth with her hand.

The three of them, thrown off by Bu-yeong’s unusual demeanor, hesitated—then scoffed, falling back into their usual mockery.

“Still playing Empress, huh? Sick hen that you are.”

“Pfft. That’s the perfect way to put it.”

“Exactly. Why should we even waste our breath explaining ourselves to someone like her?”

At that moment, Bu-yeong’s eyes curved in a crescent, and both corners of her mouth lifted into a sharp, eerie smile.

Splash—!

“Ahh!”

“Kyaaa!”

Just moments ago, the three women had been squawking about hens; now, they were soaked to the bone, like drowned rats. Bu-yeong had grabbed the water jar at her feet and thrown its contents at them.

Their once-pristine makeup was now running in messy streaks down their faces.

One of them, furious, reached out to hit Bu-yeong, but the others quickly pulled her back.

“Hey! L-let’s just go! Her eyes… Something’s off. She doesn’t look right today.”

“She’s finally lost her mind.”

“Q-quick, let’s get out of here.”

They bolted, nearly tripping over each other as they glanced nervously over their shoulders, afraid that Bu-yeong might chase after them.

As they retreated, Bu-yeong tilted her head back and laughed into the sky.

“Ha… ha!”

Her laughter rang out bright and clear—but her smiling mouth soon froze over, cold and lifeless.

A sick hen that couldn’t even lay eggs—that was her place in the palace now.

Would it be better to simply end her life alongside her father?

But no — as cowardly as it might seem, Bu-yeong could never bring herself to die before her father. If death was inevitable, she would rather face it alone than leave her father behind.

Despite there still being work to be done, Bu-yeong cast the empty jar aside and made her way to the Ministry of Internal Affairs. There, she was given a generous supply of charcoal — far more than usual. On any other day, her hands would have trembled at the thought of wasting even a single coin. But today, she spared no expense.

With the charcoal in hand, she returned to the Cold Palace. She boiled water and washed herself thoroughly. Then she chose the finest clothes she owned, pressed them with a rusty iron, and put them on.

After that, she stopped by the royal kitchen and prepared a tray of steaming white rice and a roasted chicken leg. One of the kitchen maids, sensing that something was different about her, kept glancing over at her uneasily.

Carrying the lunchbox, Bu-yeong headed to the Imperial Prison.

The gatekeeper flipped the coin she had given him, chuckled and let her in without saying a word.

Bu-yeong didn’t even bother offering him a polite smile. With slow, heavy steps, she entered the prison.

The stench was worse than it had been days ago—so foul it was hard to breathe through her nose.

Steeling herself not to cry, Bu-yeong walked to the cell that held Seol Ik-jin.

“…Father.”