"Kyeonjeong, that matter is forbidden," Yin interjected, his usual affable expression replaced by a stern frown. But Hye simply scoffed.
"Do you think we can erase what the whole world witnessed by keeping it forbidden amongst ourselves?"
"What is your point?" Kyun asked, his brow furrowed.
"At the very least, it seems more likely that the current unrest in Birahng was triggered by the Star, not by Dong'gyeong's instigation," Hye argued. "Wi fell half a century ago. The world has changed five times over. Has Dahn been teetering on the brink of collapse, its people suffering, during this time? Quite the contrary."
Yin looked at her with an enigmatic smile. "Is it wise for a president to make such bold claims?"
"Unfounded confidence is dangerous, I agree," Hye conceded. "But I base my assessment on the tax revenue trends I've observed during my time in the Board of Revenue. Though still insufficient, Dahn has grown stronger. We may criticize the King behind his back, but Dahn has prospered since his ascension. And yet, you're suggesting that those forgotten remnants suddenly launched a rebellion in Birahng? With no justification, simply because Sung instigated them? It's absurd. Those rebels are like moths drawn to a flame. They were barely surviving, hidden away. It makes more sense that they were driven to action by that star they saw in spring."
Yin laughed heartily at her analysis. "We should have appointed you to the President of the Board of Diplomacy instead," he joked.
Hye shook her head. "I prefer numbers to people."
"Who doesn't?" Yin chuckled, then added, "Even if your assessment is correct, it doesn't rule out the possibility of Sung's involvement with Birahng. Perhaps it wasn't Dong'gyeong who instigated Birahng, but the other way around."
Seojung Mu, who had been listening quietly, suddenly interjected. "So why in the world would those Sungian bastards listen to a bunch of rebels?"
"That's what we're sending the envoy to find out," Kyun reminded him calmly.
Yin turned to Hye. "You seem to be quite concerned about the incident with the star."
"It was a peculiar event," Hye replied. "Though studying the Azure Scripture is forbidden at the Sanctuary, we all know its contents. Only a fool wouldn't connect the star to the prophecy. Let's be honest, am I the only one who thought of it?"
Silence met her question.
"The court may be suppressing it," Hye continued, "but the people still remember the Azure Scripture. Why else would His Majesty insist on preventing the rebels from crossing the southern sea, even if it means burning an entire island to the ground? I don't believe he was speaking metaphorically, either. And I understand his desperation, since burning Nahmgyo is no different from cutting off our left hand."
"Why the left hand?" Cheol asked, intrigued.
Hye shrugged. "Because it's not our right hand, of course." She took a sip of her drink and continued, "We may have prioritized the situation in Yahngbuk during the meeting, but we cannot ignore the events in Birahng. His Majesty has been unusually agitated, even resorting to extreme measures like threatening to burn our own land. It makes me wonder if he's received some secret information."
"To be honest, I have my doubts as well," Yin admitted to Kyun. "Princess Kyeong'ui's report to the Royal Court seemed a bit too... formal, don't you think?"
"Even a royal is still a subject," Kyun countered.
"I'm just saying," Yin clarified, "it's hard to believe the King's precious daughter would only send such a stiff and impersonal report. Is there any way to find out if there's another message, one sent separately from Birahng? If Kyeonjeong's suspicions are correct, this situation becomes even more complicated."
Kyun frowned. "I'm not in a position to pry into the King's private correspondence."
"Wouldn't Baekyang Seoh know?" Cheol suggested.
Yin shot him a disapproving look. "Interrogating him is no different from questioning the King himself."
Kyun tapped the table with his fist. "If only we could get our hands on that man..."
Hye shook her head. "It would be easier to convince the Chief Supreme Councilor to join us."
"Baekyang Seoh must be under a lot of stress attending to the King these days," Kyun said sympathetically. "We're merely observing the situation from a distance, but for the King, it's a personal matter, his daughter's life hanging in the balance. It's taken a toll on the Queen as well."
Mu scoffed. "We've already shown great leniency by not mentioning her failure today. Imagine if she weren't a royal, but a mere general. We would be condemning her recklessness and incompetence, not discussing her rescue. If she returned alive, we'd be demanding her execution."
"Don't speak of such things," Kyun chided his brother. "How can you even assume that Princess Kyeong'ui isn't a royal? And if we start assigning blame, do you think the one who appointed Juyeong Hyo to Hyangdo would be spared? Worry about your own situation first."
Mu, his face flushed, fell silent. Though he was Kyun's own brother, he was unaware that Kyun had planned Juyeong Hyo's death for the sake of the Crown Prince and his wife. Kyun felt a pang of anxiety.
Their meeting continued past midnight, and the Presidents finally dispersed under the cover of darkness, just before dawn.
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"Humble yourself before His Majesty and beg for forgiveness," Moonseong Ik instructed his son, Yool, as they left their residence.
"I'll handle it my own way," Yool replied curtly.
Ik ignored his son's rebellious tone and led the way out. Baekyang Seoh had sent a messenger earlier that day, relaying the King's summons for Yool to join his father and enter the palace through the north gate after nightfall. Ik felt a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. Though they could have taken the shorter route along the palace walls, they chose to navigate the winding alleys, avoiding the public eye. By the time they reached the north gate, it was close to midnight. Seoh was waiting for them.
"Chief Councilor," he greeted, bowing respectfully. His gaze shifted to Yool, who stood behind his father. "It's been a while. You've gotten some sun."
Yool smiled politely and bowed. "Greetings, Chief Royal Secretary."
"How is His Majesty?" Ik asked.
"He is a father and a husband, burdened with worry," Seoh replied. "His priority is the Queen's recovery now that the urgent matters have been dealt with."
"And the princes?"
Seoh sighed. "What can they do?"
With that, he led them towards the main hall.
Yeongshin Mihn's cries had been the first newborn's cries to echo through Yeonghwi Palace. The reconstruction of the palace, after the fire that had ravaged it during the Founder's reign, had been a long and arduous process, taking over forty years. Kyeongshin and Kyeongyul had been born outside the palace walls while their father was still a prince. The King would never forget the day his subjects had showered him with congratulations, celebrating the joyous occasion. The sound of his daughter's cries, echoing through the Queen's quarters, seemed to cleanse the palace of all past curses.
As the child began to walk and run, the once cold and austere palace felt like a home. As a child, Kyeong'ui was a mischievous escape artist, often disappearing from the watchful eyes of the Queen and her nannies. They would find her hiding in the most unexpected places, even venturing as far as the Outer Palace. She was quick and agile, like a rat darting through the shadows. The sight of the palace staff chasing after her, her laughter echoing through the courtyard, often brought a smile to the faces of the stern-faced officials who came to visit the King.
Holding Kyeong'ui in his arms, the King felt only paternal love, his heart softening towards everyone. Some cunning officials even exploited his affection for his daughter, delivering unpleasant news only when she was present, knowing he would be more lenient. But the King didn't mind. He even cherished those moments.
The Queen hadn't felt the joys of motherhood when her two sons were born. She had left them in the care of nurses, her days filled with listlessness and fatigue. She often lamented her inability to show them affection in their early years, even after they had grown. It wasn't until Kyeong'ui's birth that she finally embraced her role as a mother, realizing the preciousness of her own flesh and blood. It was Kyeong'ui who had taught them the joys of parenthood.
As Kyeong'ui grew older and her intelligence became apparent, the world's perception of her changed. The high officials who had once adored her now looked upon her with suspicion and concern. The King and Queen began to shield her from the public eye, confining her within the palace walls. The King, pitying her suppressed frustration, showered her with affection and favoritism. The Queen, however, became cold and distant, as if she had forgotten the joy her young daughter had once brought.
Alone in his chambers, the King reminisced about Kyeong'ui, from the day she was born to this day, tears welling up in his eyes. He had always believed he would do anything to protect his nation, but now, faced with the possibility of losing his daughter, he felt his resolve crumble. The image of her, small and afraid, yet bravely voicing her ambitions, her features a reflection of his own, haunted him. But he couldn't bring himself to blame his subjects for prioritizing the nation's safety over his daughter's life. He wept alone.
A court lady announced the arrival of the Moonseong father and son, along with Baekyang Seoh, and the King hastily wiped his tears.
"Let them in," he commanded.
The doors opened, and Moonseong Ik entered, followed by his son. Seoh trailed behind them. Ik and Seoh bowed to the King, then Yool stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Your humble subject, son of Chief Supreme Councilor Moonseong Ik..." he began.
"Skip the formalities," the King interrupted. "Sit and let me see your face."
Yool nervously adjusted his robes and sat before the King, his gaze lowered.
"I hear you were the last to see Kyeong'ui in Birahng," the King said.