The Stallion and the Ghost

Sang-gang ordered the attending Chief Eunuch to bring tea, then moved behind the desk to sit upon the silk cushion. He waited for the Queen Mother to take her seat before speaking.

“So, what brings you to my quarters so suddenly?”

She smoothed the billowing folds of her skirt with a gentle hand, her expression one of maternal benevolence.

“Is it so strange for a mother to visit her son? It felt as though it had been quite some time since I last saw the Emperor’s face, but seeing you so robust puts my mind at ease.”

Sang-gang’s lips twisted into a faint, dry smile.

“I have been too indifferent. State affairs have been pressing of late, so I hope Mother is not offended.”

“Offended? Heavens, no. To see the Emperor so devoted to the throne while the nation enjoys peace brings this mother nothing but joy.”

The conversation paused briefly as the Chief Eunuch served the tea. The Queen Mother wrapped her hands around the steaming cup as if to warm her palms before leading the conversation back.

“Your Majesty, have things truly been so busy of late?”

“Always. We are in the midst of preparations for winter.”

Located in the north of the continent, the Tae Empire suffered through winters that were long and merciless. To ensure the season passed without calamity until next March, it was a time to fill the granaries with harvested grain and fortify the structures against the inevitable weight of the snow.

“Is it not because the position of Empress remains vacant that Your Majesty is burdened with so much? It is high time you brought someone into the Inner Palace.”

Straight to the point, Sang-gang thought. He sipped his tea in silence, offering no response. He knew that even if he remained quiet, the nagging would continue. As expected, she pressed on.

“It has been over eight years since the Crown Princess passed away. While her departure was tragic, how long do you intend to leave that seat empty?”

Sang-gang frowned slightly as he tried to recall the face of his late wife, whose features were now a blurred memory.

In the year Sang-gang turned eleven, a ten-year-old Crown Princess had entered the palace. The granddaughter of the Left State Councillor, Song Seom, she had been a quiet and delicate girl. That was the extent of his memory regarding his primary consort—he had never even held her hand.

Having been wed at such a tender age, what affection could have possibly bloomed between them? They met occasionally for meals, and after Sang-gang left for the battlefield at fourteen, they never saw each other again. Since she died of illness before his return to the capital, he had only seen her grown appearance through a formal portrait.

There was no way he was spending eight years mourning her. He had simply been busy and found the matter tedious, pushing it aside. While he vaguely understood the necessity of producing an heir, it felt like a distant, abstract concept—something that would happen “eventually.”

Why bother sowing seeds in a world where nothing brings joy? Sang-gang’s problem was that he felt no desire to force a miniature version of himself to endure this tedious existence.

Mistaking his silence for consideration, the Queen Mother continued her lecture.

“Must you not produce an Imperial heir? This mother is so worried her hair turns gray by the day. Do you know what rumors are circulating in the streets?”

She let out an exaggerated sigh and set down her teacup.

“They say there are preposterous rumors that the Emperor is… a eunuch.”

Sang-gang let out a short, sharp laugh and set his cup down.

“Does Mother care so much for the eyes of the commoners?”

“Of course I care! To a parent, even a grown child always looks like a babe. Moreover, I worry that such scandalous rumors will diminish the dignity of the Imperial House.”

“If our dignity is so fragile that it falls to such rumors, it would have crumbled long ago.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“I know exactly what you are saying, Mother. However, I believe the timing is premature. Let us speak of this another time.”

The Queen Mother pressed a hand to her forehead, looking as though she had a sudden migraine.

“I do not know when this ‘proper time’ you speak of will ever arrive. You are nearly thirty, yet you claim it is not the time. What am I to do with you?”

Sang-gang replied nonchalantly.

“The coming of spring, the blooming of flowers, the bearing of fruit, and the falling of snow—all things have their time. My time will come eventually.”

The Queen Mother glared at him with dissatisfied eyes.

“If you loathe a state marriage, then at least take a concubine. It is frustrating that you do not have even one. Your Majesty’s duty includes continuing the dynastic line; you must not cast that obligation aside.”

Sang-gang, who had been wearing a faint smile, glanced at her sideways and dropped a blunt remark.

“So, you are telling me to go about mating like a stud stallion?”

“Your Majesty!”

The Queen Mother’s voice rose for a moment before settling into a quiet, hurt tone.

“Do not twist your mother’s intentions so. It hurts my feelings.”

“It is not a twist; I am merely understanding your words exactly as they were spoken. Is it not so? Since I must carry on the Imperial blood, would you be satisfied if I took anyone and scattered my seed?”

The Queen Mother tried to soothe him, claiming she didn’t mean it that way, but Sang-gang’s face remained a mask of iron.

“You should return now, Mother. I have a mountain of work to attend to, so please understand that I cannot see you out. Chief Eunuch, the Queen Mother is leaving. Escort her.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Faced with such a firm dismissal, the Queen Mother found it difficult to stay. She rose with a dissatisfied expression and bowed toward him.

“I shall leave for today, but please make time for me again soon.”

“I do not know if I will have the time. As I said, I am quite busy preparing for winter.”

After the Queen Mother departed with a sigh at his indifferent response, the Chief Secretary spoke up cautiously.

“Shall I investigate the source of the rumors?”

“Leave it. Such rumors will vanish when the time comes. If they become truly conspicuous, we can look into it then.”

After all, a few executions would make the rumors disappear in an instant. It was no great task to squash such talk. Besides, the rumors didn’t actually harm him—if anything, they might keep the nuisances away.

Sang-gang let out a dry laugh as he thought of the high officials who were desperate to link themselves to the Emperor by any means. Everyone saw him as a breeding stallion; it was utterly repulsive. If they are so intent on a mating, they should at least bring a woman who piques my interest.

Perhaps because Sang-gang’s mood seemed foul, the room grew deathly quiet. He knew the inner officials and the Secretary were holding their breath, but he didn’t care, his expression growing colder.

“Secretary, look into the situation in the Kingdom of Gyeong.”

“The situation… what specifically should I seek, Sire?”

“About the Prince who recently arrived as tribute.”

The Secretary hesitated before asking, “Your Majesty, are you not perhaps focusing too much interest on that Prince? I suspect the Queen Mother’s visit was also prompted by the fact that the Prince was placed in Bogyeong-dang.”

“I suppose so.”

Sang-gang waved a hand at the eunuch. The attendant approached, cleared the teacup, and reopened the scrolls Sang-gang had been reviewing earlier. Sang-gang feigned interest in the mundane reports as he spoke.

“Do you also think my interest in the Prince is excessive?”

“It… would appear so.”

“In what way?” Sang-gang asked back, sounding bored.

“Is Bogyeong-dang not the place where the late Emperor’s most cherished consort used to reside?”

The Secretary answered slowly, choosing his words with care. It seemed he wanted to mention Jin-mok but couldn’t bring himself to say the name.

“Pardon my insolence, but it was the same with the painter, Ha… and now you have insisted on placing the Prince there. Is there a reason?”

“Jin-mok was my cherished artist. I placed him there so I could check on him often.”

Sang-gang let out a quiet sigh as he uttered the name he missed so dearly, speaking it aloud for the first time in a long while.

“Then, why the Prince…?”

“Secretary, you saw the portrait as well, did you not?”

“It was remarkably similar, but did the Prince not say he drew it himself?”

“Similar…? You should say it is identical. To my eyes, it looked as though it were painted by the same hand. Are you not curious who in Gyeong told that Prince about that specific portrait style?”

Sang-gang vaguely realized his explanation wasn’t entirely logical. What did it matter? Even if the Prince died this instant, Gyeong wouldn’t dare utter a word of protest.

The Secretary, who had been by his side for a long time, knew Sang-gang was not the type to keep someone suspicious close to him. He sensed the Secretary’s hesitation, unsure of how to respond.

Sang-gang knew the truth, but what could he do when that was the only reason that came to mind? Initially, he had been enraged that someone had leaked Jin-mok’s style to lure his attention. But if he were to ask himself if that were still the only reason… the answer was no.