“You’ve met Baek Munhak. What did you think of him, in your eyes?”
The old king’s hoarse voice sank into the cold air like a fading echo.
Only then did Daegyeongseung Heegang—who had been staring intently at a polished corner of the wooden floor that gleamed as if it might reflect the shape of a person’s shadow—slowly lift her head to dare a glance at the king’s elevated seat.
“He’s a man too gifted for the Paekyeongbu.”
“And why is that?”
“He possesses little, but his ambitions are vast. How could the work of Paekyeongbu—where budget must match available funds—ever satisfy someone like him?”
The king let out a rare, hearty laugh. The courtiers stationed at a respectful distance, keeping their posts like shadows, flinched at the dry, cracking sound and instinctively hunched their shoulders.
The Daegyeongseung standing nearest to the king, however, was unfazed, simply counting the steps leading up to the dais with an indifferent expression.
“You speak true. Baek Munhak himself said this: that the Way of the Artisan is also the Way of the Emperor.”
“That while it may not suit this chaotic world of fractured kingdoms, if anyone on this continent must carry that burden, it should be me. And you—how does that sound to your ears?”
“A merchant inflates the value of his wares when selling, exaggerating their usefulness. The logic of orators is no different. And yet…”
A fit of phlegmy coughing interrupted the Daegyeongseung’s words. A courtier quickly stepped forward to offer warm tea to the king.
Even after sipping and finally catching his breath, a strange metallic rasp still clung to his breathing.
The winters of Jeonghangoong were too harsh for an old man. Each passing year would only make it harder.
A faint twitch crept across the Daegyeongseung’s brow. She pressed her lips tightly together, hesitating to speak further.
But regardless of her intentions, once words began in the royal presence, they had to be finished.
“If Your Majesty deems it necessary, then his inherent value matters little, does it not?”
The king set his teacup down. The hand stroking his beard hesitated, betraying his thoughts.
The Daegyeongseung raised a single brow before bowing her head again.
Baek Sahyeon was a fortunate man. Had he entered Pasa even a year earlier, he wouldn’t have caught the king’s eye as he had now.
Back then, the king had seemed destined to reign for decades longer, and Dangkyeong still hung suspended on the scale of royal favor.
But a year ago, everything changed. The king had been struck by a sudden bout of pneumonia and barely survived.
After that, his demeanor began to shift—as if he had finally accepted that his twilight had come, and that it was time to prepare for the end.
King Danheul had begun to think about Pasa after his death.
“Before the late king passed, he summoned me and said, ‘This nation has become a great kingdom. Guard the borders well and make the farmland flourish—sustain the nation.’”
“At that time, I held my mother’s hand and said, ‘I will expand Pasa’s territory and restore an empire to this continent.’”
The late king did not smile at his only surviving son’s words. He merely watched Danheul with eyes like a twilight sea.
Only after a long silence did she speak.
‘Do you know why I chose you among all my children?’
‘Tragically, none of my other children had the talent to expand this land. Your older brother was foolish and brave, a clumsy swordsman who couldn’t tell friend from foe—he would’ve split the country in two.’
‘Your sister, though clever, was timid and would be cut down by a blade rising from below while lost in calculations.’
‘Danheul, you were the most suspicious and cunning of all. Even when your wife was imprisoned and dying, you didn’t sever the lock that bound her with your axe. That was your final test.’
‘You’re the kind of man who will sacrifice anything to protect himself. That’s why I entrust this nation to you.’
‘As king, for your title and the fame that history will record, you will do whatever it takes. War, to you, is like the locked gate your wife died behind—you would never take that gamble.’
‘So protect it. Until the next generation—or the one after—that will carry Pasa’s glory forward appears, you must serve as the bridge in between.’
At the time, he had wanted to deny her words. But within a year of ascending the throne, he realized she had been right.
The late king must have foreseen even Danheul’s capacity to recognize his own limits when choosing him as heir.
“I had hoped my successor would fulfill that dream.”
Danheul slowly closed his heavy-lidded eyes.
“Still, I had Lord Sang-gyeong at my side. He always reminded me of the former king’s will.”
Daegyeongseung’s father-in-law and the Grand General—Lord Sang-gyeong, Beom Yeo.
As heir to the prestigious Beom clan, he had entered government at a young age and joined the Royal Guard. He was one of the few left who had seen the previous king in person.
At times, Danheul felt as though Beom Yeo wasn’t truly his retainer but still the former king’s. And yet, no one else’s yearning for Pasa’s glory burned as fiercely.
Beom Yeo’s fire had rekindled Danheul’s dying embers time and again.
But even Beom Yeo was growing old now.
Was there anyone left in this Jeonghangoong palace who could pass on the imperial flame to the next king?
The younger officials now spoke of peace among the Three Kingdoms and stability across the continent.
They argued that if Pasa, as the strongest nation, acted as mediator, Yookang’s ambition could easily be subdued.
Their memorials were logically sound, seeming to demonstrate a cool grasp of the political climate—but Danheul knew better.
Pasa’s young officials had grown complacent after years of peace. They were content with the status quo, wanting only to preserve it for the few decades they had left.
Even as dangers beyond the borders stirred and swelled without rest.
And then, Baek Sahyeon appeared before Danheul—a young scholar who possessed nothing, yet dared to approach the throne and speak of an impossible dream.
And coincidentally, that “dream” aligned with the legacy the late king had entrusted to Danheul for future generations.
If Sahyeon could win the trust of the next monarch, he might become another Beom Yeo.
So, he should remain in Ungyeong Palace—for now.
True trust between ruler and servant cannot be manufactured.
“…I’ve heard Lord Sang-gyeong’s health hasn’t been well.”
“He caught a cold, but he has since recovered.”
“A man who once trained shirtless all day in the middle of a snowfield felled by a mere cold. He must truly be old now.”
Danheul let out a dry, metallic rasp—somewhere between a laugh and a cough—and reached for his teacup again.
“…I’ve lived too long.”
He muttered bitterly, as if speaking to no one in particular.
***
“Jinseo Fortress in southern Hahyeon is famous for its vast tea fields. Its teas are considered the finest under heaven, rivaling those from Okgang Province in Yookang.”
“Among them is this Ubaekcha (Feather-White Tea), made from the youngest buds untouched by even the faintest fuzz. The leaves shine silver like white feathers, the liquor is crystal clear, and its aroma and taste are pure—truly, a tea that suits you.”
The moment Lord Taejeonggong Dangkyeong finished speaking, a court attendant approached on their knees and poured an almost transparent pale tea into a snow-white porcelain cup.
Sahyeon respectfully received it with both hands and took a careful sip. The fragrant tea moistened his mouth, which had dried from tension.
“It truly is the finest. I don’t know much about tea, but even I can clearly sense its scent.”
Dangkyeong lifted the corners of her lips in a smile, though her eyes didn’t quite follow.
Sahyeon returned her sharp gaze with a gentle, smiling glance.
“I’m honored you would serve such a precious tea. Is there something you wished to ask me? If it’s about the 8th Prince’s studies, as you asked before, he’s still only learning elementary texts…”
Sahyeon knew well that wasn’t what she truly wanted to ask.
She was not one to reveal her intentions easily, so circling around and taking her time wasn’t a bad strategy. But Sahyeon didn’t want this conversation to drag on.
If they kept talking, she might bring up Dan Ijae’s “condition,” and that could lead to uncomfortable ground.
“Ungyeong Palace is a beautiful place. The Second Princess, the Fifth Prince… and even Lord Taejeonggong—all of you care deeply for your youngest brother.”
In other words, what she really wanted to ask was: “What exactly did you and Danye talk about?”
As expected, the flicker in Dangkyeong’s eyes—searching for a suitable excuse—suddenly steadied.
“Even Yeo was curious about Ijae’s studies?”
“Yes. Of course, the Eighth Prince has been diligently attending his lessons, but since it hasn’t been long since he began his studies, he’s still only learning the very basics.”
“Honestly, I feel rather embarrassed about that. Given the renowned reputation of my teacher, I’m sure many have high expectations of me as well—but I’ve yet to teach the Eighth Prince to that standard…”
“No, no, don’t let yourself think that way. Just getting Lee Jae to open a book is already an incredible accomplishment on your part.”
“I can imagine Baek Munhak must be quite worried. Why did the fifth prince summon someone so overworked all the way to Sugyeongdang, anyway?”
“When I was first invited to Sugyeongdang, I must admit—I was a little hopeful I’d get to see some rare teas… Ha ha.”
“I’d heard rumors that the palace officials at Sugyeongdang were exceptionally skilled at acquiring precious ingredients.”
“Was the hospitality lacking?”
At last, a genuine smile began to spread across Dangyeong’s face. Watching her, Sahyeon fiddled with his now-lukewarm teacup.
She gave him a generous nod, as if encouraging him to drink to his heart’s content.
In truth, tea all tasted more or less the same to Sahyeon—most varieties served in the palace felt indistinguishable to his tongue—but he still put on his most grateful expression and drained the cup with a dramatic slurp.
He even popped one of the sweets into his mouth for good measure.
“We mostly just looked around. Even while showing me the forest, he couldn’t stop worrying about the Eighth Prince. And then, the pine tree…”
Sahyeon trailed off, absentmindedly touching his lips as his gaze rolled in the direction of Sugyeongdang.
Who was it again?
One of the court ladies used to scoff, saying that whenever Sahyeon made that kind of face, he was clearly pretending to be clueless while scheming something in the back of his mind.
She found it insufferably fake. But well, the person sitting before him now wasn’t that court lady who had always seemed eager to tear him apart.