Camellia Permeates the Snow

Are you suffering because you left it behind?

Episode 9

“Your Highness, the wind is quite chilly.”

Yang Taegam subtly suggested that it was time to retire for the night.

Considering that the schedule would begin early in the morning, it was already late.

However, Kang-yoon felt that he wouldn’t be able to sleep easily today.

Instead of responding to Yang Taegam’s suggestion, he called for someone else.

“Mu-heon.”

“Command me, Crown Prince.”

Keeping his gaze on the still dim sky, Kang-yoon spoke in a voice only Mu-heon could hear.

“For the time being, I want to keep receiving reports like today’s.”

The more he stepped into Manhae-dang, the more unnecessary attention would be drawn to Yeon-hwa.

Since he had sent her to Manhae-dang to avoid others’ eyes, it seemed wise to be cautious for a while.

He didn’t need to cherish the strange flower blooming in the rear garden, but he didn’t want to share it with others either.

It would be nice to keep her close in the East Palace, but

“The more detailed, the better.”

Even if it was a delightful toy, it was still too precious to crush with a strong grip.

“I will follow your command.”

Kang-yoon glanced briefly at the bowed Mu-heon before looking back at the sky.

There were too many things to observe.

He didn’t know where to trust or where to be wary. The only thing he needed to remember was one thing.

‘In this palace, no one should be easily trusted.’

Good intentions could turn to malice, and malice could bring about unexpected fortune in an instant. The moon, almost completely covered by clouds, was casting a faint light on Kang-yoon’s pupils.

***

The soft chirping of birds gently awakened him.

As he slowly opened his eyelids, the ceiling of Manhae-dang came into view.

It was now a familiar sight, even more so than the inner palace of Yeoguk.

“Yeon-hwa, are you awake?”

As Yeon-hwa rose from her place, Ari, who had been keeping watch, hurriedly checked her complexion.

After collapsing the previous day, it was understandable that the girl was still feeling anxious.

“I’m fine now. The medicine seems to be effective, and my body feels very light.”

“Really? That’s a relief.”

When Yeon-hwa smiled, Ari’s previously tense expression softened.

Yeon-hwa quickly finished her meal with Ari’s help, including the herbal medicine brewed by Tae-ui.

Once the mundane tasks were completed, an endlessly dull time followed.

As she was not a priestess, she couldn’t assist with the affairs of Manhae-dang, and due to her previous collapse, she could not roam freely as before. However, sitting quietly in the room was the hardest for Yeon-hwa.

If it were during her time in the inner palace, it might have been different. Having tasted freedom once, she could no longer endure being trapped in a confined space.

‘How dare you wander around without permission!’

‘Sit down at once! What will you do if you lose your mind?’

Suddenly, the sharp reprimand of the deputy palace lady mixed with the sound of the wind echoed in her ears.

The more she remained still, the more those memories surfaced, making it feel as if a cloth was wrapped around her face, suffocating her.

Would it be okay to go out? Would it be alright for someone like her to wander about freely? After hesitating several times, Yeon-hwa finally managed to open the door.

As she stepped outside, Ari, who had been chatting with other attendants, was startled and approached her.

“Yeon-hwa, do you need anything? Just say the word, and I’ll fetch it for you!”

“It’s just so stuffy sitting inside.”

“It’s still quite chilly outside. Please rest inside.”

Looking around the room thoughtfully, Yeon-hwa finally shook her head. After feeling fear once, she felt she would suffocate if she stayed there any longer.

“I’ll only stay nearby, so don’t worry and rest. If you need anything, just call for me.”

Yeon-hwa reassured Ari and wandered nearby alone.

There was no set destination.

She just wanted to confirm that she was no longer trapped somewhere.

She felt the sensation of dry grass softly pressed under her feet.

The rustling sound tickled her ears, and gradually, her previously tight chest began to loosen. Once again stepping gently on the dry grass, Yeon-hwa stopped and closed her eyes. Slowly, very slowly, she inhaled deeply into her lungs.

The cold air of late winter filled her body.

She was alive.

This chilly air made her feel very much alive. However, the freedom to breathe and the blue sky brought her, unfortunately, another sadness.

I am alive.

But the Ming King is dead.

He left behind a sin that I can never erase, even if I repay it for a lifetime, and he went to find peace alone.

Yeon-hwa was confused about how to accept the fact that the Ming King was dead.

The accumulated resentment and sorrow over the years had not vanished, and the unjust accusations against her family remained.

Yet now, there was no one to blame and no way to clear her family’s name. How could she resolve this endless emptiness?

Ultimately, would the story only end when she herself died?

The resentment that wandered aimlessly turned toward herself, and Yeon-hwa felt as if she were sinking into a consuming flame of emotion.

‘How foolishly I cling to life, indulging in excessive desires.’

After all, the queen of a fallen nation was in a position to harbor both wishes and resentments.

If this was her fate, then it was fate; if it was a punishment, then it was a punishment she had to accept.

Only then could she die as a sacrifice with her eyes closed peacefully.

Standing there in a daze, Yeon-hwa fled from the flame that seemed to swallow her whole.

At that moment, she heard a rustling sound. A branch of a towering pine tree beyond the wall of Manhae-dang shook violently.

The movement was too short and strong to be merely the wind. At the same time, something black and unfamiliar came into view among the lush green pine needles.

‘…A guard?’

As Yeon-hwa’s eyes met Mu-heon’s, she opened her mouth slightly.

What was the crown prince’s shadow doing in Manhae-dang at this hour?

And why was he hiding like that?

Even in broad daylight, Mu-heon seemed to be cloaked in darkness.

It felt as if she were looking at a completely different space rather than in front of Manhae-dang, and Yeon-hwa could only stare at him in surprise without saying a word.

After a brief silence, Mu-heon casually descended from the tree and offered an explanation over the low wall.

“The bird raised by His Highness has escaped.”

His voice, cool and low, resembled that of his master.

Mu-heon showed her a small bird he held in his hand, as if to prove he was not lying. Although it was a moment of quick thinking and luck, Yeon-hwa naively believed his words.

“You’ve had a hard time.”

So, she mixed a bit of sincerity into her greeting.

She noticed his indifferent gaze fixed on her. Was it an impolite remark? Just as she was momentarily worried,

“Are you feeling alright now?”

What returned was an unexpectedly concerned question.

There was no hint of wariness or malice in it.

Mu-heon asked the question as if it were completely normal, as if he had run into a familiar companion on the way.

Perhaps it was because she had received help from him a few times in Yeoguk.

She felt a bit more familiarity than wariness toward him. This coincidence felt strange yet not impossible, and Yeon-hwa nodded, calming her surprised heart.

“Thanks to the Crown Prince, I am enjoying undeserved comforts with my humble self. I can’t express my gratitude properly, so I say this instead.”

It was said that the Ming King’s guards would close their eyes, ears, and mouths when they were with their master.

Conversely, when they were apart from their master, they acted as his eyes, ears, and mouth, connecting him to the world.

Therefore, she thought that the crown prince’s guard would be the same and expressed her feelings accordingly.

Mu-heon didn’t respond, but thankfully, it seemed he understood her intentions.

‘He is originally a man of few words.’

Not knowing what to do with his silence, Yeon-hwa remained still, unable to leave or continue the conversation.

“…”

However, Mu-heon’s silence was not simply due to his nature. In reality, Yeon-hwa was not the only one feeling flustered.

Mu-heon could easily hide his presence if he wished, as effortlessly as breathing.

Kang-yoon knew this well, which was why he had sent him out even in broad daylight.

Yet, the moment his eyes met Yeon-hwa’s, Mu-heon found himself unable to move, as if someone had grasped him.

The moment he locked eyes with her deep gaze, he had no time to hide himself.

He could only admit that his focus had been disrupted since she had shown a pained expression.

He had unconsciously harbored a sense of sympathy. Why was that? Was it because he felt a kinship with her due to the terrible pain she had suffered in Yeoguk? Or perhaps it was because, like Kang-yoon, he saw someone he had lost in her.

“Are you troubled by leaving someone behind?”

This question was also an impulse he couldn’t fully understand.

It was something he would never normally ask—no, he wouldn’t even dare to think of it.

Speaking to someone who belonged to the crown prince’s domain without his permission and throwing out unnecessary questions was indeed a disrespectful act. Nevertheless, Mu-heon asked Yeon-hwa.

He wanted to know if there was something she was searching for, if she still held onto a fragment of regret for the hellish land she had left behind. He knew that his master cared about this.

After all, he had been there when Yeon-hwa lost consciousness.

Perhaps deeper than that, it was because he saw a resemblance between Yeon-hwa and ‘that child’ he had to leave behind in Yeoguk.

That cold, clear, and simultaneously endlessly deep, sorrowful gaze. Ah, the bloodline of Yeoguk was so cruel. Everyone knew each other’s suffering.

“I…”

Instead of answering easily, Yeon-hwa made a strange face.

She didn’t know Mu-heon was from Yeoguk, so her gaze seemed to wonder if he had any other motives. Then her answer was unexpected.

“I am troubled by not being able to leave.”

Unable to let go of ten years of resentment. Unable to leave behind a message that might reach Na-han, who might come looking for her later, to say that she was still alive and that she had waited for him her whole life.

Both were things Yeon-hwa could do nothing about, yet it was all the more painful because she couldn’t give up.

“Then how can you hope for peace?”

Already, she was a sinner.

Yeon-hwa’s face, as she answered, looked somehow desolate, even without any expression. It seemed to harbor a pain that was difficult to glimpse.

An inexplicable question returned with an equally inexplicable answer. And a strange gaze touched the depths of her heart.

But continuing the conversation any further would not be possible for either of them. She was the offering to the esteemed Crown Prince.

“Then please rest.”

Mu-heon, engraving the truth that didn’t need to be reiterated into his heart, briefly bowed his head and turned to leave.

Only after distancing himself somewhat from Manhae-dang did he release the small bird he had been holding carefully.

The bird quickly flew away, disappearing from sight.

A sense of guilt washed over him as if he had committed an unforgivable act.

It was something he could never report to his master. Even he didn’t fully understand the reason for his guilt.

***

When Mu-heon finished reporting on Yeon-hwa, Kang-yoon closed the book. Next to him was a pile of completed reports.

However, the difference from yesterday was that Kang-yoon’s complexion appeared much more relaxed.

“It seems she is safe, more than I feared.”

That was all the appreciation he felt, yet it was the best relief for Kang-yoon.

Perhaps the fact that he had shown concern indicated that it was not a usual occurrence.

Thus, Mu-heon almost mentioned that he had spoken with Yeon-hwa but ultimately kept silent.

It wasn’t a significant conversation, yet just the fact that he had exchanged words with her made Mu-heon feel he had committed a grave sin.

Mu-heon was a man of few emotions, so ordinary people would not notice whatever feelings he harbored within.

“Is there anything more to say?”

However, Kang-yoon, always close by, quickly noticed even the slightest change.

Today, a subtle shift in Mu-heon’s gaze caught Kang-yoon’s attention. There was no way to avoid the Crown Prince’s eyes.

The shadow was always tied to him.

Just as Mu-heon was about to shake off any impure thoughts and mention his trivial conversation with Yeon-hwa,

“Crown Prince, the High Priestess of Manhae-dang requests an audience.”

Unexpectedly, Boshan had come to Taejanggak.

She had arrived at just the right time, neither too early nor too late, having sensed Kang-yoon’s intention to visit Manhae-dang previously.

Kang-yoon was about to ask Mu-heon something more but then waved his hand as if to dismiss it.

“Leave now.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Now was the time to focus on important matters rather than personal ones. Soon, leaning on her cane, Boshan entered and bowed to Kang-yoon.

“I greet the Crown Prince.”

“I have unnecessarily troubled the High Priestess.”

“It is the matter of the shrine. Please do not concern yourself.”

As a court lady placed warm teacups before them, Yang Taegam brought in a clean sheet of paper, a brush, and an inkstone filled with ground ink.

Naturally, the brush was handed to Boshan.

She dipped it in the ink with invisible eyes and gazed at Kang-yoon with her white, opaque pupils.

“From now on, I will select the date and time most suitable for your birth for the coronation.”

After a brief explanation, Boshan gracefully began to move the brush.

Her handwriting was far more neat and beautiful than that of someone with sight, and it exuded a strange power.

It was as if she were communicating with something unseen, as she stared into the void while moving the brush, then repeated the action.

Eventually, the date for the construction of the coronation altar and the date for the ceremony began to emerge beneath her strokes.

Kang-yoon did not contest what Boshan wrote. He intended to follow it all as it was.

The coronation was the first step for the Crown Prince to become Emperor, so he would lead all beginnings and endings.

While he would report to the Emperor, that was merely a conclusion; the decision-making power rested solely with the Crown Prince.

The decisions for the coronation proceeded smoothly, flowing like water.

After easily determining everything, Boshan let out a quiet sigh of relief and rolled up the papers, tucking them away.

“Until the coronation, I will rely on your virtue.”

“I will serve with all my heart, Your Highness.”

As Boshan bowed and was about to leave Taejanggak, she suddenly seemed to recall something and turned back to Kang-yoon.

“Crown Prince, may I dare to speak one more word?”

“Speak.”

A different firmness glimmered in her white pupils than before.

“It concerns the offering for the coronation.”

At this moment, she was about to bring up a topic that Kang-yoon would most likely find uncomfortable.