Entering the Palace

It was a morning like any other.

Almost, except that he had been listless all day due to the dream he had the previous night. Even when he picked at his breakfast and the table was cleared, even when he forced himself to read a book he could not focus on, even when Yoo Kang burst into his bedchamber without notice, his face pale with shock—Yi-seol never imagined such a thing would happen.

Yi-seol clasped his hands tightly together, resting them on his lap. A refreshing breeze from the pond blew into the open pavilion, but instead of cooling, it only swept coldly across his tense neck. Unable to find anywhere to look, he stared at his own folded hands for a long time. The man, who had said nothing after telling Yi-seol to sit when he hurried over, took a sip of tea and finally spoke.

“Is your name Yeon Yi-seol?”

Even though the flat voice lacked any discernible emotion, Yi-seol instinctively sensed the man’s displeasure and answered quietly.

“Yes. I am Yeon Yi-seol.”

“So you are Yi-seol, written with the characters for ‘pear blossom’ and ‘snow’?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

At the two affirmations, the man let out a soft ‘heh’ and tapped the table with his fingertip. Startled by the clinking teacup, Yi-seol flinched and cautiously studied the man’s expression. The man, who seemed to be deliberating with a distinctly displeased look, took another sip of tea. Yi-seol, who had belatedly reached for a drink to follow suit, quietly lowered his hand when his eyes met the man’s again.

“So that is the name recorded in the Celestial Registry. Do you have a childhood name?”

“I do have a childhood name, but the only name recorded in the Celestial Registry is Yeon Yi-seol. In Yeon, we do not register childhood names in the Celestial Registry.”

“The character for ‘snow’ is not commonly used. Few even know this character.”

“……”

“I will ask again. Is the ‘seol’ in your name indeed the character for snow?”

“Yes. It is certainly correct.”

As Yi-seol answered without a moment’s hesitation, the man’s expression darkened immediately. His rigid face, as if he had not received the desired answer, turned toward Yi-seol before slowly shifting to the pond beyond the pavilion. Yi-seol, who had felt suffocated under the man’s gaze all along, took an inconspicuous deep breath and swallowed. This was a chance to properly see the face he had missed earlier, having been momentarily stunned upon meeting the man.

Yi-seol had heard the rumors that the beauty of Geum’s royal family was otherworldly, and that the current emperor was lauded as the greatest among all past generations. But he never imagined he would be this beautiful. When he was young, he had accompanied his father, the king of Yeon, when he went to Geum to pay respects after his ascension, and had been astonished to see the previous emperor—but dare he say, it was not to this extent.

Unlike the men of Yeon, whose hair rarely fell below the shoulders, the emperor of Geum had long black hair that extended far past his shoulders, half of which was tied with a golden silk ribbon. Whenever the wind blew, his black hair and golden ribbon fluttered, brushing across his shoulders. Yi-seol stared blankly at the gleaming strands, then as if spellbound, his gaze moved to his face. His features were distinct and sharp—masculine, but not harsh. There was no flaw, no blemish; his handsome appearance was perfect, as if painted.

“Do you have a betrothed?”

“……Pardon?”

Startled by the question asked without even turning his head, Yi-seol echoed a beat late. The emperor asked again, unconcerned.

“I asked if you have a betrothed.”

“I do not.”

“That is fortunate.”

Despite his words, his attitude remained displeased. As the emperor brushed back his windblown hair, Yi-seol suddenly noticed a silk ribbon wound around his left wrist. The emperor, reading Yi-seol’s gaze following the ribbon, pulled down his sleeve to hide his wrist.

A name and a wrist. A sudden thought pierced Yi-seol’s mind. Although he felt a sense of disbelief, he dared not ask, afraid it might be a grave discourtesy, and only parted his lips for a moment. The emperor, watching Yi-seol calmly, spoke.

“Your name is on my wrist.”

“……”

“You do not seem very surprised.”

Of course he was surprised. No matter how calm and composed Yi-seol might be by nature, hearing something like that out of the blue would startle anyone. And the speaker was the emperor—the ruler of Geum, who held sway over the eight nations and twelve tribes of this vast continent. That such an emperor, whom Yi-seol had never expected to meet in his lifetime, had his name inscribed on his wrist—Yi-seol clasped his hands tightly below the table, out of the emperor’s sight, and let out a long, low sigh. He wondered if there might have been a mistake in the emperor’s tracking of the Celestial Registry names.

“The character for ‘snow’ may be rare, but it is not entirely unused. I have heard it is commonly used in the northern polar regions, where snow is not hard to see.”

“You speak of the barbarians of the northern snow mountains. They do not register names in the Celestial Registry. There is nothing more to say.”

“Could there not be another person with the same name as mine?”

“There were.”

“Then……”

Yi-seol trailed off, leaving the question unspoken.

“Besides you, there were four Yeon Yi-seols in the Celestial Registry. A seventy-year-old woman with little time left, a newborn baby boy, a woman heavy with child who married a few years ago, and a maiden who already bore the name of another betrothed.”

“But I……”

“I know.”

“……”

“You would not have my name.”

The emperor was right. There was no name of the emperor anywhere on Yi-seol’s body. In fact, he did not even know the emperor’s name. The emperor had a name, but it was as if he did not—for how could a name that no one could utter be called a name? Moreover, the Geum royal family held names in such high regard that they could not be casually revealed or spoken, except among royalty. Most servants in the palace did not even know the names of the royalty they served, and even if they chanced to learn them, it was their duty—regardless of their role—to keep silent until death. It was said that, to prevent leaks, anyone who knew the name was not allowed to live, except for a few trusted close aides and confidants.

There was no way Yi-seol could know the emperor’s name. There was no name engraved on his body. A name that was absent this morning could not suddenly appear now, so Yi-seol did not bother to check his own wrist. He tried to organize his chaotic thoughts, but the emperor gave him no time.

“It does not matter. That is not why I came here.”

“……Is there something in particular you wish of me?”

“I intend to bring you into my palace.”

Yi-seol had vaguely anticipated it upon hearing that the emperor carried his name on his wrist, but hearing it directly was different. It felt as though a crack had appeared in the peaceful, monotonous life he had led until this morning.

There had been talk of marriage, but Yi-seol thought he could postpone it for a few more years thanks to his older brother and sister, who were also not yet married. In Yeon, even royalty respected the individual’s wishes regarding marriage partners and timing, so Yi-seol had never seriously considered the matter. He was not naive enough to think he could marry solely for love, born into royalty as he was. But he had never dreamed he would follow a complete stranger—and a man at that, the emperor—into a foreign palace.

The pavilion, which had once faintly echoed with bird calls, was now heavy with silence. After a long deliberation, Yi-seol spoke first.

“……I might not be Your Majesty’s destined partner.”

“It does not matter.”

“Also, I am a man. Despite that, would you still bring me into the palace?”

“As long as your name is Yeon Yi-seol, I will.”

The emperor’s resolve was firm. Yi-seol’s thoughts of trying to persuade or negotiate with the emperor vanished in an instant. In truth, words like persuasion or negotiation held no meaning for the emperor. The emperor commanded, and Yi-seol had to follow—that was the proper order. So it was between Geum and Yeon, and so it was between the emperor and Yi-seol.

The emperor did not even need to come here in person. Even if he had merely sent a letter with nothing but the characters ‘Yeon Yi-seol’ written on it, Yi-seol would have rushed to Geum and knelt before the emperor. Such was the emperor of Geum.

The emperor had no empress yet. With the previous emperor’s sudden death, state affairs had fallen into disarray, and the current emperor, who succeeded him, had spent his time consolidating internal affairs and strengthening imperial authority. Yi-seol had heard that he had taken few concubines, so the quarters where the emperor’s women resided had many empty rooms.

‘One of them will become my room, I suppose,’ Yi-seol thought.

Even if Yi-seol was the destined one bestowed with the emperor’s name, he was a man and from a foreign royal family—he would not be given any high position. There was not even a hint of affection or consideration in the emperor’s eyes. If Yi-seol were even a minor noblewoman, he might have hoped for the title of imperial consort.

“I will think of a suitable title for you.”

The words did not even reach Yi-seol’s ears, as he stared blankly at his fingertips with a shadowed face. He had heard that dreaming of a phoenix was an auspicious omen, but how could this be considered auspicious?

“I will send a palanquin in fifteen days.”

“……Yes.”

Even commoners in the villages took over two months to decide on a wedding date. It was not something to be decided after exchanging a few words while seated across from each other. And certainly, the emperor’s marriage could not be decided so easily. At this point, Yi-seol could guess how casually and insignificantly the emperor regarded bringing him into the palace.

But Yi-seol could not argue, so he nodded weakly in reply.

“You will hear the details from him.”

Yi-seol turned his head at the emperor’s nod and saw a man in Geum court robes standing right next to the chair Yi-seol was sitting in. His mental state was such that he had not even heard him approach.

The emperor rose. Yi-seol had thought he was tall, but looking again, he seemed at least a handspan taller than himself. He looked up dumbly, then startled by a cough from behind, jumped to his feet and bowed. With his eyes on the ground, he saw the golden robe rustle past and heard footsteps receding into the distance. Slowly straightening, Yi-seol gazed blankly at the arched bridge connecting the pavilion to the garden. The emperor, who had left without even a formal farewell, disappeared into the escorts of the Geum guards blocking the bridge.

Ah… As Yi-seol watched the emperor disappear, he suddenly thought of the phoenix from last night’s dream. The phoenix, which had been watching Yi-seol for a long time, spread its wings and plucked out a feather with its beak. With the feather still blazing like a red flame in its beak, the phoenix fluttered one wing, as if beckoning Yi-seol closer. But Yi-seol could not take a single step forward. The phoenix, which seemed overwhelming just to look upon, was dazzlingly beautiful yet did not grant him the courage to approach. And so, as they faced each other for a long time, the moon began to set, and like the fading moonlight, the phoenix disappeared, and Yi-seol woke from the dream.

It felt as if he were reliving this morning, when he had awakened tangled in indescribable emotions. Just like the phoenix that had faded into the distance, the emperor, his black hair streaming, disappeared into the distance.