"Your Majesty!" Lord Joonho's voice trembled with urgency. "Protecting the young prince is the only way to ensure the queen's safety."
The king chuckled, but it was a hollow, despairing sound. "No! Protecting her from the minister is the only way to keep her safe. Can't you understand?" His hands clenched at his sides, shaking with frustration. "They've been waiting for this—waiting for the queen to be disposed of. It was as if they knew this would happen." His voice cracked, the weight of his words sinking deep into the silence.
Lord Joonho remained silent for a moment, searching for words, but before he could respond, a figure appeared in the doorway—the head royal palace guard.
"Your Majesty!" The guard's face was pale, his breathing shallow. "My apologies, but the minister's guards have breached the palace. They are inside."
The king's heart dropped. The air in the room grew colder, and a chill ran down his spine. "Ensure both the queen and the prince's safety—at all costs," Lord Joonho ordered, his voice strained with worry. He turned to leave, urgency in his every step. His mind raced with plans, hoping he could reach the minister, Shikryeom—the manipulator, the architect of their misery.
---
Inside Queen Jiyeon's chamber, the queen groaned in pain, her body wracked with exhaustion. She slumped back onto the bed, sweat dripping down her face.
"Your Royal Highness!" The midwife's voice was soft but tinged with fear. She rushed to the queen's side, her hands trembling.
Queen Jiyeon shook her head weakly, tears welling up in her eyes. "I can't... I can't do this anymore. I have no strength left." Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of her desperation.
The head midwife turned to the others, her expression grave. "Get more towels and water, now!" She barked, her urgency rising as the queen's condition worsened.
The others scrambled to comply, but the air in the room was thick with anxiety and fear.
---
Meanwhile, as the midwife hurried through the halls with her tray of supplies, she passed by the shadowed corridor where Lord Shikryeom and a man in disguise spoke in hushed, urgent tones. Their conversation was muffled, but the tension in their voices was unmistakable.
The midwife froze, her breath catching in her throat. She pressed herself against the wall, hoping to stay unnoticed. But in her panic, her tray slipped from her hands, clattering loudly to the ground.
Her heart skipped a beat as both men's heads snapped toward the sound. The man in disguise glanced in her direction, his eyes narrowing as if he had already suspected her presence. She gasped quietly and quickly covered her mouth to stifle a scream, her body trembling in fear.
Frantically, she scooped up her tray and ran as fast as her legs could carry her, her pulse thundering in her ears. She didn't dare look back, only pushing forward with a single thought—survive.
But just as she reached the end of the hallway, a hand grabbed her from behind, pulling her into a dark room. Her muffled scream echoed down the corridor, only to be swallowed by the looming silence.
---
In the king's chambers, the sound of glass shattering against the stone walls echoed throughout the palace. The king stood, his fists clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling with each strained breath.
"Ahhhh!" He yelled in pure frustration, his voice breaking the tense air. "Why? Why must it come to this?" His rage was all-consuming, the fury of a man who saw everything he loved slipping through his fingers.
"Your Majesty!" The eunuch pleaded, his voice shaking. "Please, think of the queen—of the child. This anger will destroy you both!"
Lord Shikryeom entered the room with a quiet grace, a look of cold satisfaction etched across his face. The king's eyes locked onto him, and without a word, he dropped his sword onto the floor with a clatter. He stepped toward the minister, the tension in the air palpable.
"Why?!" The king's voice was raw, his chest tightening. "Why are you doing this? Do you not care for the fate of the kingdom?"
Lord Shikryeom's lips curled into a twisted smile, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "Your Majesty," he said slowly, savoring the moment. "The fate of our nation hangs in the balance. It is not I who threatens it... but you."
The king's laugh was bitter, filled with self-loathing and disbelief. "Ruler? King? A king who could be forced to sacrifice his own flesh and blood for the sake of a crown?" He spat the words, his fists trembling with rage. "When did I ever become a king? When did I ever rule, when my subjects hold all the power? I'm just a puppet—your puppet!"
"Your Majesty!" Lord Shikryeom's voice was sharp, his tone a warning. "Keep your voice down. The palace has ears."
But the king barely heard him. His thoughts spiraled, each one darker than the last. The weight of his powerlessness crushed him.
Before he could say anything more, Lord Shikryeom's head guard burst through the door, his face grim. He bowed briefly to the king before turning to Lord Shikryeom.
"The queen has fled... with the prince."
The king's world seemed to freeze. His breath caught in his throat. "What did you say?" His voice was barely a whisper, disbelief clouding his mind.
"Keep the king from leaving," the guard commanded the eunuch before turning to his men. "Find the queen. Find the prince."
"Yes, my lord!" The guard said, bowing briefly before hurrying out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
The king stood there, frozen, his mind racing. He had lost everything—his queen, his son... and the kingdom itself. The storm outside had nothing on the turmoil inside his heart.