Dan Ijae only returned to Ungyeong Palace right as the hour of the Rabbit approached.
The gatekeeper, who had stood guard all night, looked around impatiently on tiptoe, seemingly displeased that the soldier meant to relieve him hadn’t arrived.
Dan Ijae glanced at the restless gatekeeper with indifferent eyes, then entered the palace.
Several on-duty palace officials emerged with torches and began lighting the lanterns that had been extinguished throughout the night—likely in preparation for the officials who would attend court starting at the hour of the Rabbit.
“Why are you out at this hour?”
Beyond the faint glow of the lanterns, Grand Princess Dankyeong was speaking seriously with a court official.
Normally, Dan Ijae would have detoured far away to avoid being noticed by her, but tonight, he found himself wanting to approach.
He wanted to know why someone as seasoned as Grand Princess Dan Gyeong looked so uneasy.
The moment Dankyeong spotted Dan Ijae, she pressed her lips tightly together and gestured for the official to leave.
The official lowered his head as if reluctant to show his face, then hurriedly left.
“As you get older, it seems you start waking up earlier.”
Dan Ijae, who had been watching the official’s back, shifted his gaze to her.
With an awkward smile tugging at the corners of her lips, Dankyeong scanned his disheveled appearance.
“Where is your outer robe? Why are you walking around like that?”
It wasn’t unreasonable to ask—he was dressed far too lightly for a northern winter night.
“I got hot from the drink, so I took it off and left it behind as part of the tab.”
At this rate, she’d likely waste time nagging about his clothes and drinking.
Dan Ijae bowed slightly, as if ready to take his leave.
“I heard you stopped by Maeyeongdang with Scholar Baek during the day?”
He paused, waiting for her to stop him—as she just did.
Bringing up Baek and Maeyeongdang as a conversation starter?
Normally, she would be cautious of Dan Yun, who resided there.
But today, she seemed curious about something else entirely.
“I heard the wintersweet has bloomed at Maeyeongdang. Let’s all go together next time,” she said, her words lacking sincerity.
Dan Ijae narrowed his eyes slightly at her.
What was she trying to probe?
Was she trying to confirm the baseless daytime rumors about his relationship with Sahyeon?
Or…
Was there something she wanted to confirm—whether Dan Ijae knew or not?
“When you say ‘all,’ who exactly do you mean?”
“Haha, it seems you’re still not on good terms with the third.”
He had expected her to bring up Prince Dan Ye (5th prince), but unexpectedly, she mentioned Third Prince Yu Baek-hu.
“You know, the more you see each other, the closer you become. Fewer misunderstandings too…”
“What could possibly cause any misunderstanding between me and the third prince?”
“Yes, of course…”
But Sahyeon’s face had been quite swollen.
Surely there hadn’t been enough time for him to have been hit like that.
Come to think of it, someone had said—
“A man who can’t even protect a single bird.”
“How delightful. All of us, together.”
Dan Ijae smiled faintly.
“I’m glad to hear that. Then I’ll send someone to the second prince tomorrow to arrange a date.”
Dankyeong, seemingly convinced he knew nothing, waved him off and turned away.
Just then, a white falcon brushed past the lanterns along the path and landed gently on his shoulder.
As he stroked the bird’s neck, he felt dried blood crusted in the feathers graze roughly against his fingertips.
Dan Ijae brushed the black-red powder from his fingers into the air and spoke.
“But Sister, did you know this?”
His voice, almost clear as a bell for a moment, rang through the still palace like a morning chime. Dankyeong flinched and turned back.
“Wintersweet isn’t a plum blossom.”
One of her eyebrows twitched.
“What?”
“People mistook its form for a plum blossom and named it ‘wintersweet,’ but in truth, it’s not a plum blossom at all. Which means… the real plum blossom hasn’t bloomed in Maeyeongdang yet.”
Dankyeong’s gaze turned sharp like a blade. But to Dan Ijae, it wasn’t threatening at all.
“Call me when the true plum blossoms bloom.”
Smoke from morning rice fires curled up above the roofs.
The wind was blowing toward Jeonghan Palace.
“Ijae, I remember when I first met you. Everyone in the palace was devastated when our seventh, Gyeol, passed away from a plague. But then we found you, like a miracle. So even though the Grand General had been caring for you lovingly, I wondered how hard it must’ve been for you.”
“I decided I would cherish you. And when I first saw your face, I was truly startled. You looked exactly like the previous king whose portrait I saw every year at the shrine.”
Dan Yun, cheeks flushed from alcohol, chuckled and reminisced.
Not just the ‘beast’s eyes’ said to be passed down since the founding monarch, but Dan Ijae’s sharp eyes, prominent nose, and stubbornly shut lips closely resembled the young version of the late king depicted in portraits—perhaps even more striking.
Though suspicions surrounded the Grand General spiriting away a supposedly dead infant, the king had accepted Dan Ijae without hesitation for that very reason.
To the king, his mother—the late king—was both an insurmountable figure and an idol he longed to resemble.
The return of someone who looked like her likely made him feel as though a new path had opened during his reign.
Dan Yun had no memory of the previous king—he died before she turned three.
So it wasn’t longing she felt, but surprise.
Expecting the child to resemble Lady Jaya, his birth mother, with a gentle and graceful appearance, she was met instead with a sharp-eyed wolf pup.
“But by age, you’re young enough to be my own child. I couldn’t let you scare me off. So I held out my hand, hoping we’d get along. And what did this brat do? He didn’t take it. So I just—grabbed his chin like this. Do you know what kind of face you made?”
Dan Ijae scoffed and downed his drink as if he’d heard this story a thousand times.
He set down the empty cup and looked out the window.
The white falcon still hadn’t returned.
If it had, the innkeeper would’ve knocked by now asking what kind of meat to prepare.
Was it out there stealing someone’s prize rooster?
“You looked at my hand like a giant centipede was crawling up your arm. Do you know how much that hurt me?”
As she slammed her cup on the table, Dan Ijae looked back, then calmly refilled her glass with strong rice wine—as if telling her to stop whining and just drink.
Dan Yun, her eyes half-lidded from drink, glared at him, then drank again.
After that uncomfortable first meeting, it didn’t take long for her to learn why Dan Ijae had reacted that way.
It was because of his condition.
A kind of madness said to haunt those born into the royal family with those eyes.
She didn’t know the full extent, but it seemed Dan Ijae felt an unbearable sensation when another person’s skin touched his.
Maybe it really did feel, as she imagined, like a centipede crawling on him.
And that foul stench—he was the only one who sensed it.
Even in a fragrant garden full of blooming plum blossoms, he claimed he could smell rotting flesh.
To escape it, Dan Ijae always burned pungent lotus incense.
Only while inhaling its smoke did he seem briefly freed from the stench.
But no matter what he did, sometimes the symptoms worsened.
During those times, Dan Ijae suffered from severe headaches—episodes so terrifying they struck fear into every court official of Gamcheondang.
They were seizures.
The elderly palace officials said that considering he had “those eyes,” his condition wasn’t all that bad.
At the very least, he wasn’t trying to take his own life or running into the forest screaming and vanishing without a trace — that alone was a relief.
But Dan Yun thought differently.
Perhaps Dan Ijae was just as tormented as those who had once died during their seizures.
He was simply enduring it — for now.
Sometimes, whenever he burned lotus grass and stared into the pitch-black forest, Dan Yun grew anxious.
Even when she heard that he had given away all the silk and jewels he had received as gifts to the palace staff, she felt uneasy — as if he were purposefully leaving nothing behind to be attached to this palace, so he could run off into the woods at any time.
And just then, strange rumors began to spread from Gamcheondang…
“But hey, huh? You ungrateful brat. When Baek Munhak held your hand, you didn’t say anything, did you?”
Dan Yun yelled with a slurred tongue, pretending to be drunk.
Of course, she didn’t know whether Dan Ijae just took it as drunken nonsense.
The day when the officials in Gamcheondang whispered that Baek Munhak had grabbed Dan Ijae’s hand — and yet, Dan Ijae neither shuddered nor pushed him away with a disgusted expression.
Even when the palace officials gathered together to plot (though it couldn’t quite be called a scheme) saying, “We must hold onto Baek Munhak,” Dan Yun didn’t fully believe their claims.
But today, when she heard from a subordinate that “the Eighth Young Master was touching Baek Munhak’s face,” she had a gut feeling something was happening.
“You— You’ve already recovered from that weird illness, haven’t you? But you’re hiding it because you don’t want me to bother you anymore, right? Come on, let me hold that hand of yours. Hand it over!”
“What are you doing?”
Dan Ijae smacked her hand with his fan, hard enough to make a loud snap.
Clutching her barely-hurt hand, Dan Yun wailed dramatically.
“This damn brat! You beat up the sister who raised you so lovingly, but you gently fondle the hand of some Baek Munhak you barely even know! This is why they say once your kid finds someone to love, it’s all over for you!”