“Sir. Governor, sir.”

At the sound of someone calling from outside the door, Ah-shin turned with an annoyed expression.

“What is it?”

“We have brought the hot water.”

“Come in.”

They were so annoying, coming and going for tasks that could have been done all at once.

The door opened, and two maids entered—one carrying a basin of hot water, and the other holding a dry towel.

“Leave it and go.”

“If there’s anything else you need…”

“Don’t bother me again. From now on, if anyone dares to come near my door, I’ll split his head open. If you don’t want to die, don’t come near me.

At Ah-shin’s threatening words, the maids turned pale and fled the room as if running for their lives.

“So noisy.”

Clicking his tongue, Ah-shin turned his gaze back to Yul-hye, who was lying on the bed.

He had stripped her of her snow-soaked, frozen clothes and left her n*ked under the blankets. Five braziers had been brought into the room, but her body was still not completely thawed.

Splash.

Ah-shin dipped a towel into the hot water in the basin, wrung it out and began to gently wipe Yul-hye’s feet with the warm, damp cloth.

There was nothing better to warm a cold body. Even wiping the feet with a hot towel could quickly restore body heat.

Of course, he knew of a faster way to raise the body temperature – but for now, this would do.

“Kang… so that’s her name.”

Was it because he was consciously thinking about it? Or was it just his imagination that she looked more and more like Kang Mu-yeol?

She might not even be Kang Mu-yeol’s daughter.

Yes, it wasn’t certain if Kang Mu-yeol even had a daughter. However, he couldn’t help but suspect that this girl might be Kang Mu-yeol’s daughter.

“The tradition of the eldest son inheriting the throne has been upheld since this nation’s founding. And now, you propose making someone other than the eldest the crown prince? That is simply unthinkable.”

During his reign, the late emperor had intended to name Ah-shin—the youngest prince, not the eldest—as crown prince. Such was the depth of his affection for Ah-shin.

However, when the emperor subtly hinted at this decision, the one who fiercely opposed it, even at the risk of his own life, was none other than Kang Mu-yeol.

Kang Mu-yeol had stood resolute, his eyes blazing with determination as he declared that the tradition of eldest-son succession must never be broken under any circumstances.

“Moreover, if a prince with a belligerent nature were to ascend the throne, the life of the people would be far from peaceful. An emperor must have a kind disposition. Therefore, the First Prince, as the eldest, is the rightful choice for Crown Prince.”

In essence, he had declared that Ah-shin’s volatile temperament would lead the nation to ruin if he ever ascended the throne.

“I’ll ruin the nation if I become emperor? Should I tear that insolent mouth of yours apart?”

“Even if my mouth is torn, I must speak the truth. If Your Highness, who revels in the sight of blood and finds joy in wounding rather than healing, ascends the throne, what will become of the nation and its people? I even fear for the safety of my own family.”

Kang Mu-yeol had brazenly thrown such blunt words directly at him, without hesitation.

“If my brother becomes emperor, what will you do if I don’t stand idly by?”
“Then I, too, will not stand idly by.”
“Not stand idly by? What, will you try to kill me?”
“If necessary, I would ensure mutual destruction.”
“You insolent wretch. One day, I’ll make sure to crack your skull open.”
“If I die, I’ll make sure to take at least one of Your Highness’s arms with me.”

That was the kind of audacious and outrageous man Kang Mu-yeol had been.

The same Kang Mu-yeol who had once vowed to take Ah-shin’s arm with him when he died.

But in the end, Kang Mu-yeol had died without claiming anyone’s arm. The family he had fought so desperately to protect was slaughtered, and his entire clan wiped out.

His body, it was said, had been torn limb from limb, burned, and his ashes scattered to the winds.

By the time Ah-shin returned to the capital three years later, not even a trace of Kang Mu-yeol’s remains could be found.

If he had to die, it should have been by Ah-shin’s own hand. Instead, he had met his end at the hands of Ah-shin’s pitiful elder brother.

Looking back, it was a death that seemed fitting for a man like Kang Mu-yeol.

A death that suited him.

If Kang Mu-yeol had bowed, surrendered, and conformed to his third brother, Ah-shin would have torn him apart with his own hands.

In a way, it was fortunate that he died as he had lived—defiant and unyielding to the very end. It felt strangely fitting.

Ah-shin was left with a peculiar mix of regret and relief. Regret that he hadn’t been the one to kill Kang Mu-yeol himself, and relief that he had died true to the man he had always known—a man who never compromised, no matter the cost.

What lingered, however, was an unexpected hollowness. A sense of loss. The realization that he might never encounter anyone like Kang Mu-yeol again.

Would there ever be another who would stand before him and boldly declare their intent to kill him? Someone unafraid of his power, willing to challenge him to the bitter end?

That thought left an emptiness Ah-shin couldn’t quite shake.

Touching Yul-hye’s feet, which still showed no sign of warmth.

“Still cold.”

Frustrated, he tossed the damp towel aside, shed his outer robes and slipped under the blankets, his body n*ked against hers. Her skin remained icy, her body unyieldingly cold, and her pale, bluish lips only deepened the pain in his chest.

In truth, it no longer mattered whether she was a Kang or if she had any connection to Kang Mu-yeol. None of it mattered.

All Ah-shin wanted was to bring her back—to breathe life into her frozen body and ask her one thing.

He needed to know what had been in her mind when she ran away. Why she had chosen to leave him.

He could have given her a life of luxury and glory—so why had she chosen to flee?

If it had been before they had shared a bed, he might have understood – perhaps she had run out of fear, uncertainty clouding her heart. But after giving her body to him, after crossing that irreversible line, why had she risked everything to run away?

A body already given, already claimed – why not stay and embrace the wealth and comfort it could offer? Why choose the danger of the freezing wilderness over the security he could provide?

“You’ll have to wake up soon, I’m going to ask you…”

His voice was low, tinged with frustration and something deeper, something raw. He pulled Yul-hye closer into his arms, his warmth pressing against her still unresponsive body. Her icy skin bit into his, but he refused to let go, determined to bring her back to life.