“Your parents and elder brother, you say. What is the new family member you wed not long ago doing, that your birth family prepares the birthday banquet of a married-off child?”
Geon-yang’s voice was cold, as if asserting something. It was less a question asked out of curiosity than a digging for weakness. Setting others aside, Geon-yang was someone who knew Mok-young’s circumstances intimately, and his ulterior intent felt all the more blatant.
However much it was a political marriage, a birthday banquet for one’s spouse was properly prepared by the couple — yet Geon-yang was expecting that things between the two were anything but smooth . In truth, many rumors had reached each other’s ears as well.
“Well, since you even neglected the wedding night, I suppose there was nothing to prepare in a hurry.”
The news that the two had not consummated their wedding night had already reached Geon-yang’s ears. How many listening ears and watching eyes did the Emperor have trained on him? The report — that on the night of the wedding, General Dan had entered the bridal chamber only to come right back out and retire to his own room, not emerging again — had come in with room to spare. It was far more accurate information than mere floating rumor.
Still, saying it so bluntly to his face was meant to embarrass him. Dae-ho, who had been quietly watching, felt his eyebrow twitch slightly.
“I have no wish to trouble Your Majesty with household affairs — I beg your pardon; do not hold it against me, Your Majesty.”
Mok-young was not one to simply listen quietly forever. He drew a line at “household affairs,” politely conveying the meaning *I have nothing to say to you about it* — and though Geon-yang’s eyes took on a slightly sharp gleam, he did not press the quarrel further.
“Yes, well, well…”
“Well then, you may withdra—” Geon-yang started to say, then stopped and rose from his seat. Because Mok-young’s body had swayed. For Geon-yang, seeing this tense, towering man like this was a first — despite having watched Mok-young for over twenty years.
But faster than Geon-yang could step forward and catch him, Dae-ho, standing a single pace behind, moved in and supported the General’s arm. In a low voice Dae-ho asked, “Are you all right, General?” and Mok-young, unable to answer at once, gritted his teeth — then steadied himself.
Damn this burning fever. He had thought it only came when he lay down to sleep, but his unassuming heart was pounding — *thump* — so hard he could scarcely get words out. It wasn’t that Geon-yang before his eyes was some evil spirit whose aura had affected him. His scent hadn’t even brushed the tip of Mok-young’s nose. Just as, before Hae-gang, ordinary yin folk could not exude their own scent, so too before Mok-young, ordinary yang folk — even those of extreme yang — could not spread their energy and give off their scent. In other words, this had manifested purely because Mok-young’s physical state was unstable. Even so, thinking that contact with a yang person would do him no good, Mok-young decided he must hurry home.
“I shall take my leave.”
“Mok-young.”
Geon-yang, now fully risen from his seat, called to Mok-young as he turned to bow in farewell. The call of “Mok-young-ah” sounded intimate at first hearing. When Geon-yang lifted his foot as if approaching Mok-young, a wariness could be felt .
“General, I shall escort you to the carriage and see you off.”
But at Dae-ho’s words ringing through the room, Geon-yang’s steps halted.
“His Highness’s personal physician resides at the manor, so his condition can be examined at once.”
Dae-ho’s words were dignified but firmly raised a wall. For a mere adjutant to presume so before the Emperor was outrageous — yet he had witnessed it directly himself. Physicians were of course on standby at the palace in plenty, but since Mok-young’s condition did not look dangerous enough to collapse on the spot, Geon-yang could hardly make a fuss.
Mok-young now steadied himself and stood, offered his courtesies as neatly as ever, then paused a moment to collect himself; Dae-ho, too, released the hand that had held Mok-young’s arm, then followed behind him, bowing to His Majesty before promptly moving off. Geon-yang watched the two retreating backs as they grew distant, his brow furrowing slightly.
“…A mysterious fragrance.”
Though Mok-young could not catch Geon-yang’s scent, Geon-yang could catch the fragrance flowing from Mok-young. Usually Mok-young controlled his body so thoroughly that, yin person though he had become, he never let his scent slip carelessly—
—he had never gone about carelessly leaking his scent, so even now it was only the faintest seep — but to Geon-yang even that felt immense.
It was the first time he had ever caught Mok-young’s scent as a yin person. No wonder. The occasion had been after the wedding, hadn’t it? He had thought: bring the dying man here, and when the time is right, simply tidy things up — but already an irksome feeling was settling in.
***
The weather had been so fine, and today the sky was full of clouds again. It didn’t feel gloomy, though — there was a chill in the air, and it looked like snow.
Hae-gang sat in the reception room prepared in one corner of Danogwan. It was a special space for receiving honored guests, and since he was a prince of Namwi , every visit had been met with the utmost hospitality. Just now, Mok-young’s mother, Lady Ban Sojeong, had gone to prepare something precious to feed her son-in-law — he had heard it was not a restorative tonic, and Hae-gang had been about to think *if you say so* but stopped himself. He wondered what they meant to feed a man already overflowing with yang energy to the point of trouble — but since they knew nothing of their son-in-law’s condition, Hae-gang kept his deeper thoughts to himself.
Thanks to that, he could be alone and quiet for a while, which was also nice. Hae-gang cracked open the window above the long window-side bench , tilted it up and fixed it with its prop, and gazed idly at the scenery outside. Perhaps because it was a space used to receive honored guests, the rear garden beside the reception room was beautifully landscaped as well. The men of the Dan family had for generations served as military officers or trained as warriors, so they didn’t seem the delicate sort; the tending of this garden was likely Lady Ban Sojeong’s delicacy.
Settling onto the chair, he could tell from the cushion laid upon it that it was something precious . Lowering his gaze to look at the cushion’s embroidery , he felt a skill far beyond the ordinary. Lady Sojeong likely hadn’t done it herself, but the meticulousness of finding and commissioning so skilled an artisan showed her character.
Hae-gang simply turned his head to look out the window. Resting his chin on the clear autumn window frame, gazing idly outside , the cold winter wind seeped in and brushed past his cheek. Hae-gang’s eyes closed. The sensation of his skin cooling felt utterly peaceful.
Ah… when had he last sat so at ease? His bride disliked him — for the reason that theirs was not a marriage of mutual affection — and he was in a wholly unfamiliar place with nothing familiar to his body; and yet his heart alone maintained a quiet peace.
These past few days, he had even been sleeping soundly.
“Strangely enough.”
“My condition feels quite good today.”
Just as he had said to Seung-gyeom days ago, the “strangely good condition” was continuing. When he had first met Mok-young at the marketplace and seized his arm, even that brief contact had unsettled his energy — but now it was different. Whether this was a positive or a negative, he still could not say for certain, but he did not doubt it. Since he had never gotten a clear answer about his own body’s condition, Hae-gang was trying to adapt to it little by little.
“Still, you ought to get a little… used to it, my lady.”
He had said that to Mok-young, but Hae-gang figured he too needed to grow accustomed to contact with Mok-young. If he became so drunk on Mok-young’s energy that he lost all sense of heaven and earth, it would bode ill not only for himself but for Mok-young as well. His own energy could never harm Mok-young, but even so… he could hardly make a widower of him so soon after the wedding, could he.
Thinking of the wedding night that might cost him his life, Hae-gang let out a soft chuckle. It wasn’t that he feared for his own precarious life—rather, picturing the moment he would finally spend his wedding night with his bride made laughter rise first.
“What a troubled face he’ll make then.”
“He certainly won’t let me off easily.”
“How much I’ll have to coax and soothe him just to loosen a single clothing tie.”
“He has a creed of never harming the old and the weak… surely he won’t try to wring my neck.”
As these thoughts pleasantly muddled his head, the tangled problems he’d been clutching to himself all along slipped away somewhere. His second elder brother had sent him off hoping his little brother would sicken and die in a faraway land—but that little brother was enjoying a daily life far better than expected. Well, his bride seemed none too pleased with this marriage or the newly begun married life, so he felt a bit guilty enjoying it alone—but that only made Hae-gang resolve to find a way, as soon as possible, for them to enjoy it together.
“You’ve waited a long while, Your Highness. You weren’t too lonely all by yourself?”
The reception room door opened, and Sojeong came in, greeting Hae-gang. Hae-gang turned his head toward the voice, then looked back at the window and closed what he’d left open—worried Sojeong might feel the cold.
“I’m quite all right. I’ve always been fond of losing myself in thought.”
Hae-gang answered in a rather gentle tone, straightened up, and sat facing Sojeong. Sojeong, carrying in a tray with a tea set, set it down on one side of the large round table at the center of the reception room, poured a cup of warm tea, and brought it over, pressing it into Hae-gang’s hands. It was consideration, lest her son-in-law’s hands be cold. Namwi was a far warmer land than the Northern Wei, and she worried how hard it must be for him—having lived there all his life—to come to the cold north, and in deep winter, when this biting wind blew.
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