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chapter 13
But Yoonjeong showed no sign of letting it go. His expression was so stiff it felt unfamiliar.
The Crown Prince’s face, usually as refined and beautiful as if carefully painted, had turned icy blue. Daom frantically waved her hand.
“Why would you do such a thing…?”
The bell rang again to announce the start of class. Daom truly had to leave. She quickly grabbed Yoonjeong’s hand.
Then, with her finger, she traced words onto his palm:
“Tomorrow, midday.”
Yoonjeong caught her wrist.
“You will come tomorrow as well?”
Daom nodded, hastily gathering up the half-read book. Yoonjeong helped her.
“I will wait for you at midday.”
Just as she was about to slip between the bookshelves to leave, Yoonjeong pulled her back. His fierce gaze, as if demanding a promise, left Daom no choice but to nod again.
Clutching the book to her chest, she ran. Thanks to that, she managed to reach the lecture hall on time.
The moment she passed through the front gate, a chill wind stung her throat and shoulders. Perhaps because she had just been indoors, the air felt even colder against her skin.
Daom went straight to the laundry yard. She had to deal with the laundry that had been soaking. By now, she knew well enough what to do.
“Arrogant, arrogant—was that what they said? Did you decide to just live up to it now?”
Daom turned her head while pounding solid soap into powder. Sangun approached, still bare-chested.
Rubbing his exposed forearms, he glared at her. With evening falling, the air had grown cold, and it seemed he had come to the wardrobe to find something to wear.
“If you’re here, you ought to announce yourself.”
Then, as though he found his own words amusing, the corners of his lips suddenly curled up.
“Ah, that’s right. You can’t speak now.”
Without warning, he came closer and seized her face in one large hand. His lips brushed close, whispering softly.
“Can’t make a sound, can you?”
Daom instinctively tried to push him away but froze. Her fingertips had brushed against his bare skin.
Startled, she quickly pulled her hand back. Amused, Sangun arched a brow.
“What is it? Is this the first time our dignified little retainer has touched a man’s arm?”
With that, he leaned in even closer.
This shameless man! Daom squirmed, trying desperately to avoid any more contact.
Sangun laughed as if he’d finally found the perfect thing to tease her about.
“What exactly do you think I’m going to do? What are you imagining that has you flailing like this?”
She mouthed words, begging him to step aside, but no voice came out. Watching her silently gape like a fish, Sangun abruptly let go.
“Stop opening and closing your mouth like a carp. Hand me some clothes before I freeze.”
Freed, Daom muttered under her breath like a sigh.
“You shameless man…”
Sangun slowly turned his head. Daom too, slowly lifted her gaze.
Her voice… had just come out?
“What did you say?”
“Well… I don’t quite remem—ah!”
Before she could finish, Sangun unleashed his divine power, tipping the entire tub of water and laundry over her. Soaked, smelly clothes and icy water drenched Daom from head to toe.
“Bihyung!”
At his call, Bihyung appeared midair, clutching cooking utensils in both hands as though he had been preparing dinner.
“Fetch me a coat!”
“Huh? I’m in the middle of cooking—couldn’t the new retainer do that inst—eh? Why do you look like a drowned rat?”
Before Daom could say anything, Sangun kicked the bucket of soap aside.
“After you bring me a coat, dig a grave while you’re at it! Tonight I’ll kill this wretched servant for sure!”
He stomped about so furiously it seemed he might smash the well. Alarmed, Bihyung dashed into the wardrobe to fetch clothing.
“Please, forgive me. I’ve committed an offense.”
Daom threw herself to the ground in apology. Sangun scowled, stamping his foot.
“You dare behave recklessly because you know I cannot kill humans? Let’s see how far you push it.”
Snatching the coat Bihyung brought, he draped it over his shoulders and vanished like the wind.
Daom had no choice but to rewash all the laundry scattered across the ground.
“Achoo!”
After beating the clothes again and hanging them out to dry, she finally exhaled a breath of relief. But her body trembled, and sneezes kept escaping her.
“Are you all right?”
It was Bihyung. He offered her a tray with a steaming bowl of clear broth.
“Please, have some. It’s boiled radish with a bit of sugar—it will help.”
While Daom sipped, Bihyung disappeared into the wardrobe. Soon he returned with a gray robe identical to the one she wore.
“If you don’t change quickly, you’ll come down with a serious cold.”
Daom already felt as though she had one, but she accepted the clothes. There was no way she could sleep while soaked through.
“Thank you.”
As she went inside to change, Bihyung sat quietly on the stone steps.
“You know… Yujagyeom, and the retainers before him… they weren’t all that bad.”
His voice carried through the papered door.
“I felt guilty, watching them wither to the brink of death.”
Daom changed into the dry clothes, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to step outside.
“If things continue like this, you too will break down until death feels like mercy.”
His words continued steadily.
“The previous retainers were men, and since serving ten years was their destiny, they endured. But you are not the same, are you?”
He let out a deep sigh.
“I heard from Princess Soyoung—you were meant to be queen. To see someone like you crushed here… I don’t want that.”
Silence lingered for a moment before Bihyung rose from the steps.
“Think carefully about what it truly means to live. If days like today—without sleep or food—pile up for even a week, you will die.”
He left, and Daom stood motionless, unable to move until his figure was gone.
What shocked her most was that, even after hearing his sincere advice, her heart did not waver.
“I appreciate it, but I won’t give up.”
Even if she escaped this place and became queen, she would not be able to face herself with pride. Sniffling, Daom leaned against the door.
Though she had changed out of her wet clothes, the chill lingered deep in her body. It seemed best to sleep here for the night.
“Oh no…”
She woke abruptly, curled up without a blanket. Her ears rang, her head pounded—her cold had taken a firm hold.
She rubbed her numb limbs but staggered when she tried to rise.
“I’ve got a fever too.”
She pressed her forehead, murmuring as though it were someone else’s problem. Then she went outside to check the laundry she had hung the day before. Thankfully, the sour smell was gone.
“Oh, perfect timing—you’re here. These should be ready to wear—”
“Good heavens, why are you still here? Do you want to drive yourself to ruin?”
“Huh?”
Bihyung hurried her toward the dressing room.
“Yesterday, the princess refused to see your face, so I let it slide. But today, you must attend to the morning toilette!”
It was part of a retainer’s duty to assist with Sangun’s morning preparations and breakfast.
Daom shook her feverish head vigorously, then followed Bihyung into the chamber.
“Your insolence reaches the heavens. Why not climb up there entirely?”
Sangun was already seated, neatly dressed, with breakfast before him.
“In all my life, I’ve never had a servant oversleep.”
He rapped his chopsticks against the dish like a gong. At the harsh sound, Daom bowed low.
“My apologies…”
Sangun snorted and continued eating.
Daom couldn’t lift her head—not just from shame, but because her body was failing. Her fevered head felt unbearably heavy, as though weighed down by stones.
