Chapter 29
Although it didn’t exactly match the time Ji-young had worked, there was a record of a court lady named Rose from the Eastern Palace who visited the Royal Infirmary about once a week.
“Bruises, abrasions, and fractures? She got injured far too often.”
“That’s right. For someone in charge of clothing, she was unusually prone to accidents. Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”
No matter how careless a person might be, they wouldn’t keep injuring themselves every few days.
And someone like that wouldn’t have been chosen as a court lady in the first place—or would’ve been dismissed quickly if she had.
“There are breaks in the records too—suddenly the injuries stop, only to resume again. The injuries became more severe over time, and the intervals between treatments shorter. And it wasn’t just this woman.”
As Seo-jun flipped through the records, each page revealed a peculiar pattern in the medical logs.
There were multiple court ladies who, like Rose, had been treated three or more times in a single year for contusions, sprains, abrasions, fractures, and similar injuries.
“One time might be an accident. Two times, still possible. But the third time? No—that’s when it becomes an incident.”
And the commonality wasn’t only in the pattern of injuries.
Seo-jun photographed and filmed the documents, then carefully put them back in their place.
“What if we just take these with us?”
When Yeon reached out to grab the files, Seo-jun gently held her wrist.
“It could be dangerous.”
“But they might disappear, just like Ji-young’s records did.”
“I doubt they’ll erase everything. They probably didn’t expect these would be seen as dangerous—that’s why they left them.”
“That may be true, but…”
Still reluctant, Yeon looked back at the shelves, but Seo-jun nudged her forward from behind.
“Instead, let’s confirm one last thing—something that might be a decisive blow to someone.”
Yeon rolled her eyes and then nodded, already sensing what he meant.
“Rose’s departure record?”
“Correct. Hers and others as well. Let’s go.”
The two of them headed to the shelves where the Inner Court’s personnel records were stored.
That night, they didn’t leave the archive until past midnight—
unaware that someone was hiding behind a pillar, watching them.
“What? They went through the archives?”
Byeong slammed down the whiskey glass he’d been holding. The amber liquid splashed violently, wetting his hand.
He rubbed his hand roughly on the silk beside him, glaring fiercely.
“Say that again! Where were they, and what exactly did they do?”
Every time he opened his mouth, the stench of alcohol wafted out. His face was flushed red.
Jun-hwan, the man who had tailed Yeon and Seo-jun, bowed his head low.
“Her Highness the Princess and Councilor Kang Seo-jun stayed in the Imperial archives for roughly three hours.”
“And what were they doing in there?”
“I can’t say for certain, but judging by the section they remained in, they were likely reviewing personnel records of the Inner Court and medical records of the Royal Infirmary.”
Go Jun-hwan—personally employed by Byeong—was a man long accustomed to cleaning up dirty messes.
He had dabbled in every manner of illicit work, and tailing people was among them.
But tailing didn’t stop at just following. Based only on where someone stayed and the traces they left behind, Jun-hwan was expected to deduce what they had done.
“Inner Court personnel records? Medical logs? What could they possibly do with those?”
Anxiously biting his thumbnail, Byeong paced the room.
Jun-hwan hesitated. If he voiced his suspicions, the entire Eastern Palace could be thrown into turmoil.
It’s not even confirmed yet… better not stir up a hornet’s nest.
As he was sorting through his thoughts, Byeong roared again.
“I asked you what they can do with them!”
Jun-hwan immediately straightened.
“Your Highness, we need to observe longer. Give me some time, and I will uncover exactly what Her Highness and Councilor Kang are plotting.”
Byeong twisted his lips into a sneer, lifted his glass, and drained the whiskey in one gulp.
Swaying slightly, his flushed face looming, he grabbed Jun-hwan by the shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter what they’re plotting.”
Byeong leaned in close to his face.
“What matters is that you ruin them before they can act. Understand?”
He shoved Jun-hwan’s face harshly with his palm. Planting his feet firmly, Jun-hwan steadied himself against the push.
“Understood. I’ll tail Kang Seo-jun.”
“Shadow him. You know what I mean? Don’t take your eyes off that bastard for a single second. He’s only human—he’ll slip up sooner or later. Maybe he already has.”
Byeong sounded hopeful, but Jun-hwan thought otherwise.
He had already scoured Kang Seo-jun’s life under Byeong’s orders.
Yet he found nothing—no record of school bullying, not even ties with shady friends.
Seo-jun’s life shone brightly: top of his class, the best, a model citizen.
Jun-hwan tried every angle—illegal surveillance, wiretapping, coercion, digging into his years as a police officer with an extraordinary arrest record. But it was all in vain.
How could someone live like this…
They say no one is spotless when investigated thoroughly, yet Kang Seo-jun was.
His life was like a pristine snowfield, untouched by a single footprint.
Or perhaps… he had erased every footprint to make it look that way.
A clean slate.
If he truly had cut away every weakness from his life, then Kang Seo-jun was a terrifying man—
meticulous, relentless, and armed with wealth, power, and ability.
“What’s wrong? Losing your nerve?”
Byeong smirked, seizing Jun-hwan’s jaw and shaking it.
“No, Your Highness. I’ll do it.”
“Wrong answer.”
Smack!
Byeong slapped him hard across the face.
Jun-hwan didn’t groan, but the force behind the strike was immense. His cheek reddened and swelled quickly.
“You bring me dirt. Something that can ruin him. Got it?”
“Yes, I’ll stick to him closely.”
Satisfied by the crisp reply, Byeong finally released him and slumped down onto the sofa.
“And bring me those records too—the ones he’s suspected of looking at. All of them.”
“But the Imperial archives can’t be removed without His Majesty’s permission.”
“Who told you to go through official channels?”
He meant theft.
But the archive belonged to the Imperial family.
Stealing from it was not only incredibly difficult but also carried a 99% chance of being caught, with severe punishment attached.
Worse, judging from the length of time Seo-jun and Yeon had spent there and the section they explored, the amount of material to steal was massive.
Risky as it was, refusal wasn’t an option.
“Understood.”
Jun-hwan bowed deeply and left.
Just as he exited, a striking woman entered in his place.
Unlike Byeong, who was dressed casually, the woman wore a somewhat uncomfortable Joseon-era royal attire, complete with hairpins and silk shoes.
Her sharply upturned eyes and pointed chin gave her otherwise pretty face a fierce impression.
At her entrance, the maids in the room quickly exchanged glances and vanished behind the papered doors.
“Wine! Bring more wine!”
Byeong roared, oblivious to the sudden silence.
Then, sensing something amiss, he turned his head. His lips twisted at the sight of the visitor.
“What brings the noble Crown Princess here?”
Jin Sun-mi—the daughter of a former Prosecutor General, and once Yeon’s friend—approached gracefully and sat beside him.
Byeong frowned.
The marriage between the Crown Prince and Crown Princess was not the picture-perfect union the world believed.
Sun-mi knew of Byeong’s sordid habits and despised him for them.
Meanwhile, Byeong detested her arrogance, considering she clung to him only for power.
Yet, they shared the same ambition:
To sit upon the highest throne of the Empire.
That was why, despite mutual contempt, they had propped each other up, covering sins and feeding each other’s schemes, from their betrothal at fifteen until now, fifteen years later at thirty.
“So, Councilor Kang Seo-jun is the problem?”
“You already know, so why bother asking?”
“Investigating him won’t yield anything. You won’t find a speck of dirt on Kang Seo-jun.”
