Chapter 10
“I’m fine with it. Let’s do it. Let’s do everything we can.”
Lee Yeon’s lips, which had been stiff until now, curved into a pretty smile.
“If we can really fool the royal family elders, what can’t we do? Want to try it now?”
She tapped her index finger on the table twice.
It looked like she was pointing toward the guest rooms downstairs, and Kang Seo-jun’s mouth fell open.
With the look of a man who had just been outplayed, Seo-jun let her go.
Then, Yeon grabbed his chin and said,
“Kang Seo-jun, you keep forgetting, but I’m not a child.”
Now he was sure.
Yeon was no longer the innocent, obedient girl that Ji-young had once described.
Just like Seo-jun had grown tough from life’s struggles, she had grown too.
She seemed to enjoy his reluctant expression, winking playfully.
“Contract complete, right? Let’s do well from now on.”
Seo-jun laughed in disbelief. Today, he had been completely defeated.
Nothing happened at the Crown Prince’s Palace, either on the day Seo-jun confronted Dongjeon Group’s third son or the day after.
There were no rumors of him appearing at the Empress’s Palace, either.
Meanwhile, Yeon calmly finalized her marriage contract with Seo-jun.
Both of them pressed their fingerprints on the contract Seo-jun had prepared.
“In the 21st century, and we’re still using fingerprints instead of stamps?” she complained, wiping off the red ink from her hand.
“It can’t be faked. And unlike a stamp, you can’t lose it—unless someone cuts off your wrist.”
It was hard to argue with that.
They agreed to tell their families about the relationship by the end of the week and then parted ways.
Yeon called for Sil-an.
“When do the Empress and His Majesty have their tea time?”
Na-yeong and Beom, as a “loving couple,” drank tea together, took walks, and occasionally posed for affectionate photos.
They were the textbook example of a show-window marriage.
“Today at 2 p.m.”
Yeon checked the time—about an hour left.
“Where are they having tea today?”
“Shall I find out?”
“No, I’ll call and ask. They won’t say no if their daughter wants to join for tea, right?”
“They’ll be happy to see you.”
Happy? She was about to drop a bomb on them.
Yeon called the Empress’s Palace.
After a few rings, Na-yeong’s voice came through the receiver.
“Your Majesty the Empress, have you been well? I’d like to visit to greet you—where are you right now?”
There was mischief in her tone, and Na-yeong laughed on the other end.
The call was short.
As Sil-an predicted, Na-yeong gladly invited her to join their tea.
“Let’s go to Gyo-tae-jeon at Gyeongbokgung.”
Yeon stood, and two court ladies brought her clothes.
She had to look proper—someone might take pictures.
The drive from Nakseonjae to Gyo-tae-jeon took about 15 minutes. Plenty of time to imagine how Na-yeong and Beom would react to her marriage announcement.
At the heart of the palace stood Gyo-tae-jeon.
Yeon looked up at the calm, elegant building from the courtyard.
Contrary to common belief, the Empress’s quarters weren’t flashy, but neat—just like the role of an Empress, similar to a Joseon-era Queen: a life focused on the peace and stability of the royal family.
It was beautiful in its restraint, with warmth that reflected Na-yeong’s nature.
It was also Yeon’s favorite building in the palace.
“Your Highness, the Empress says you should come in right away.”
As Yeon strolled in the yard, a palace official approached.
“She must have eyes on the outer walls. How did she know I was here?”
“Reports are made as soon as anyone passes the side gate.”
Yeon glanced back at the gate she had entered—no CCTV. So the palace staff acted as surveillance instead.
“They should just install cameras in the 21st century instead of using skilled staff like this.”
“There are no cameras only at this gate. Inside, as you know…”
The man trailed off, smiling wryly.
Most of the palace had CCTV—everywhere except bedrooms and a few special areas.
It was “protection” if you were generous, “surveillance” if you weren’t.
For Yeon, it felt like shackles.
“Don’t feel bad about it,” she said brightly.
But she still wondered why this gate had no cameras.
When Yeon entered the tea room, Na-yeong stood to greet her.
“Yeon-hwa.”
This was a courtesy name given so people could address her informally in official settings.
Na-yeong looked delighted, as if she hadn’t seen Yeon in years.
“Come, sit down.”
Past her, at the head of the table, sat Beom. Yeon nodded at him.
Na-yeong held Yeon close, making it hard to bow formally.
“Your Majesty, let her go. The tea will get cold,” Beom said gently.
Reluctantly, Na-yeong let go, but still held Yeon’s hand, like a deer guarding her fawn.
“Have you been resting well?” Beom began.
“No, I’ve been busy.”
“What could keep you busy? You don’t have any official duties yet,” Na-yeong said.
Royal princesses usually handled charity work through the Empress’s Palace, and occasionally met foreign envoys. But Yeon had no assignments since returning.
“I’ve been dating.”
“What?”
“Dating?”
Both Beom and Na-yeong exclaimed at the same time.
Beom’s teacup rattled; luckily, it was half-empty.
“Dating? With who? What does he do? Since when?” Beom asked sharply.
“Shouldn’t you be happy? You’ve been urging me to marry quickly.”
Beom seemed caught off guard.
“I… did say that,” he admitted. “I was just surprised—you’ve never said anything about dating before.”
His feelings were complicated: part surprise, part sadness.
“What’s he like?” Beom asked.
“What’s the most important thing you want to know?” Yeon teased.
Na-yeong thought seriously, then asked,
“Is it a man?”
Yeon nearly dropped her cup. She didn’t expect the royal family—so traditional—to ask about her partner’s gender.
“Yes, he’s a man.”
Na-yeong looked relieved.
Yeon decided not to drag it out any longer.
“His name is Kang Seo-jun, 32 years old, former police officer, now a member of the National Assembly. You probably know his family—they’ve produced Prime Ministers for generations. He’s an only son. I met him briefly when we were young, I fell in love at first sight, and after reconnecting a year ago, we started dating. Now we’re going to get marr—”
“No.”
Beom cut her off firmly.
“Break up. You cannot marry Kang Seo-jun.”
It was an unexpected rejection.
