BDOS 39

Chapter 39

“Go and rest. You must be tired.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”

Before Suyang could speak, his wife answered for him, tugging at his sleeve with a desperate air. The couple reluctantly gave their farewells to the Crown Prince and left.

But Hong-ah could not relax. Even the Crown Prince himself was a potential threat.

The two of them moved to Yeonggyeong Hall.

As soon as they sat down, the Crown Prince pulled Hong-ah into his arms before saying a word. To him, it was meant as comfort; to her, it was another wave of tension. Even as his hand patted her back, she stayed rigid.

Since the death of her mother, the Crown Prince had rarely left his quarters. For him to be outside, and to have found Suyang and Hong-ah speaking in the street, meant he had his reasons.

So the time has come.

Lady Hong Seunghwi was to leave the palace tomorrow. While preparing for her departure, he must have remembered the children who needed to be sent out as well. It was tradition—postponed, perhaps, but never avoidable.

“I’ve heard how hard you’ve been working all this time,” the Crown Prince said gently. “Your father has not cared for you properly, yet my Hong-ah has been such a good girl.”
“It was simply my duty, Father.”
“I heard that Hong-yeon has been struggling.”
“Yes. I wanted to bring her here to Yeonggyeong Hall, but there was no elder who could grant permission. Lady Yang said she’d better take care of her herself, given the child’s condition.”
“I see. Then bring Hong-yeon here today and stay with her. I’ll send someone to fetch her from Lady Yang.”
“Thank you, Father.”

Hong-ah bowed gracefully. The Crown Prince’s face turned sorrowful—it was clear what he was about to say next.

Her thoughts, however, were on the folded letter hidden against her chest. She had never once let it leave her body since receiving it from her mother. The idea of delivering it made her far more nervous than being told to leave the palace.

“Your mother has fallen ill with a terrible disease,” the Crown Prince said carefully, choosing his words.

Hong-ah clasped his hand and met his eyes directly.
“Please tell that to Hong-yeon, Father.”
“Ah… my Hong-ah, you are such a mature child.”

He paused and stroked her hair gently. It reminded her of the way her mother used to do it, and a tight lump rose in her throat. She bit her lips to keep from crying.

“When someone dies in the palace, we often send the children away for safety. Just like how Hong-yeon was sent to Lady Yang’s quarters. But this time, it’s not just anyone—your own mother has met with misfortune. It won’t be enough to simply move you to another residence within the palace.”
“How long must we stay away?”
“It would be best if you remained outside until Sosang—the small mourning ceremony after one year—but I will miss you dearly. Once things have settled, I’ll call you back.”

A year. Hong-ah quickly did the math. That was enough time for them to choose a new Crown Princess among the eligible noble ladies outside the palace.

“I’m still thinking about where you’ll stay…”
“Isn’t there my detached palace, Father?”
“For you alone, the palace annex would do. But Hong-yeon is still young—it might be better to entrust her to another household.”

At this time, it was common to send royal children to the homes of ministers. Hong-yeon had once been placed in such care herself. But Hong-ah wanted her freedom. The palace annex where she had previously stayed was precisely what she desired.

“My ladies-in-waiting and servants will come with me. I will look after Hong-yeon properly.”
“Still, having an adult around would be safer.”
“My Uncle Anpyeong lives nearby, does he not?”

She explained eagerly why staying at the annex made sense, though the words brought a pang of sadness. It reminded her of a conversation she once had with her parents and Hong-ah herself on her seventh birthday.

“If that’s what you wish, then so be it,” the Crown Prince said at last. He yielded easily again—after all, Grand Prince Anpyeong was one of his most trusted brothers.

“Father…”

Hong-ah swallowed back her tears, forcing strength into her voice. She needed to change the subject before she broke down completely; there was no time to waste on emotion.

“I have something to deliver.”

She reached inside her robe and pulled out a letter, worn and creased from being carried everywhere. She placed it before the Crown Prince.

He gazed at it curiously. “What is this?”

“Mother asked me to give it to you.”
“The Crown Princess did?” He hesitated. “When?”
“Right before she gave birth to the heir.”

The Crown Prince stared at the letter for a long moment, as if trying to grasp the situation. Then, with a sigh, he unfolded it.

The paper was worn but not smudged. As he slowly read the words, his expression twisted—one she had never seen from him before.

“Hong-ah… did you read this?”
“No.”
“Then you just kept it all this time? Why?”
“Mother told me never to show it to anyone, and to give it to you before I left the palace.”
“What?”

He gave a short, bitter laugh and looked up at the ceiling, exhaling heavily. Clearly, the contents had shaken him. Hong-ah, who knew nothing of what was written, could only watch him in anxious silence.

He finally set the letter down on the desk, having read it several times. The contents, it seemed, remained the same no matter how often he looked.

“She asks that, once the Sosang period is over, the mourning be lifted and the funeral rites concluded. Then she asks that I quickly select a new consort to care for the children. You truly didn’t know this?”

His sharp gaze pierced her.

They had spoken of similar things before, but never shared the letter itself. She had nothing to hide—there was a reason her mother told her not to open it.

“I only know she asked me to deliver it to you, Father.”
“And what exactly did she say when she gave it to you?”
“She said it was her last wish, and that I must honor it.”

Hong-ah met his eyes with calm determination. The sternness of her usually gentle father was intimidating—but she could not falter. Too many lives depended on her resolve.

“And what do you think of what’s written?”
“What do you mean, Father?”
“You are clever, Hong-ah. You study under Uncle Anpyeong, do you not? Then surely you understand the meaning of this letter.”
“I believe it is right to follow my mother’s will.”

Her firm answer made him press further.
“So you would abandon filial duty, as the classics teach, in order to obey her last wish?”
“Is mourning for three years the only form of filial piety, Father? Would it be filial of me to ignore my mother’s final plea, simply to keep to the letter of the rites?”

The Crown Prince stared at her, as if seeing through every thought inside her.

“Besides, I have learned that when the father still lives but the mother passes first, one wears mourning for a year. If that is the rule, then ending mourning at Sosang—after a year—should not be wrong.”
“The mourning of a household and that of the royal family are not the same.”

He rubbed his temple, exasperated. Her composure was admirable, but exhausting.

“That the Crown Princess would orchestrate such a thing before dying…” he murmured bitterly. For the ever-gentle Crown Princess, it was an astonishingly bold move.

“This isn’t something I can decide alone,” he said at last. “It’s not a private family matter—it concerns the royal house. I must consult His Majesty.”
“Father, this is Mother’s dying wish. If it is not honored, then I will live the rest of my life as a sinner—a disobedient daughter.”

“My daughter’s cleverness truly cuts both ways,” he muttered with a sigh.

Hong-ah’s tone made it clear—if he did not persuade the King, she would. The Crown Prince reread the letter several more times, his brow furrowed deeper each time.

“And this mention of a new consort…” he groaned. “It would be the fourth time. No wonder I am reluctant.”

He muttered again, almost to himself.
“Come to think of it, she did often mention that if something happened to her, I must take another consort. You truly knew nothing of this?”
“I only know that Mother’s will must be respected.”
“There are already plenty of concubines in the East Palace. Why bring in another?”
“You mean those concubines who didn’t care when Hong-yeon stopped eating, cried every day, and vomited from grief for days on end?”

Her voice turned cold.

The Crown Prince fell silent. Consumed by his own sorrow, he too had neglected the children. There was nothing he could say in reply.