A Name That Is Not My Own

The man rumored throughout the Empire to be the Emperor’s greatest favorite was none other than Jin-mok, the soul currently inhabiting Sohwa’s body.

Even with the Emperor’s favor at his back, Jin-mok had lived a secluded life, staying buried in the palace granted to him, doing nothing but painting. On the rare occasions the Emperor summoned him, they would share tea for about fifteen minutes and Jin-mok would paint in his presence.

He was not one for social climbing; he simply feared the old proverb that “good things are often accompanied by misfortune,” and thus had no desire to stand out. He thought he had lived a quiet enough life, and yet…

Jin-mok had been murdered by an assassin acting on the orders of someone—perhaps one of the Emperor’s close aides, he couldn’t be sure. It was a pitch-black night while the rain fell in torrents. That was already two months ago.

Jin-mok, who carried the vivid memory of his breath fading alongside the searing pain of the blade, woke up inexplicably in the body of the Third Prince of Gyeong. Even more baffling was the fact that he possessed Sohwa’s memories as well.

He didn’t remember every tiny detail, but that was the nature of human memory; over time, insignificant moments sink to the bottom to be overwritten by new ones. However, he seemed to possess all the major memories from Sohwa’s childhood to the present, which only made the situation more maddening.

Sohwa, who would have died from a broken neck had Eunuch Jeong not discovered him, had remained unconscious for several months. Thus, when Jin-mok finally opened his eyes in Sohwa’s body, the joy of the Prince’s parents and siblings was beyond measure. Surrounded by people shedding tears of relief, Jin-mok couldn’t bring himself to say he wasn’t Sohwa. And so, he had lived until now, pretending to be Wi Sohwa.

Yet, Jin-mok was burning with anxiety, unable to make sense of what had happened. Even if he tried to deny being Sohwa, he held the Prince’s memories so clearly that he began to confuse even himself.

Perhaps my life as Jin-mok was the dream. Although his life in the Great Empire was etched in his mind as clearly as a painting, the real Sohwa had never been there, so there was no way to verify if those memories were true.

Haa, how did it come to this?

Was this a trick of the heavens, or a fracture of the mind? In the face of this absurd predicament, Sohwa’s face was constantly clouded with worry. What was he to do? He was filled with endless questions that offered no answers.

“That sigh of yours is loud enough to leap over the palace walls.”

Yul had ascended the pavilion without Sohwa noticing and was looking down at him. Having rushed to his side the moment he heard that Sohwa had regained consciousness after months of oblivion, Yul was the first of Sohwa’s family Jin-mok had met. He was also the one he saw most frequently.

Lately, Yul had been wearing down the threshold of the Jeongyeon Palace, visiting every single day. He looked at Sohwa with tender eyes, clearly worried about the state of his precious youngest brother.

“Brother.”

Seeing Sohwa start to rise, Yul waved his hand. Stopping the movement with a simple gesture, he sat down across from him. Sohwa, who had been caught in an awkward half-crouch, met Yul’s smiling face and sat back down. Finding it difficult to face that beaming expression, Sohwa lowered his gaze.

“I thought we might share a cup of tea, but it seems I’m a bit late.”

At his affectionate tone, the “Jin-mok” inside Sohwa shivered. No matter how many memories he held, he wasn’t the real Sohwa, and he felt a crushing sense of guilt toward this man who showed such deep, brotherly devotion.

Yul gave the silent Sohwa a smile as warm as a spring breeze and flicked his fingers toward the eunuch who accompanied him.

With that single gesture, new teacups were placed before them moments later. Before Yul sat the safflower tea Sohwa had been drinking; before Sohwa was a cup of sweet pomegranate tea that had been chilled. With movements so smooth and elegant they didn’t even cause the rustle of silk, Yul lifted his cup to his lips. After taking a quiet sip and swallowing, he called out to Sohwa.

“Hwa-ya. What have you been doing today?”

Sohwa toyed with his teacup before feeling Yul’s persistent gaze and looking up. When their eyes met, Yul raised his eyebrows as if prompting an answer.

“My hands felt stiff, so I was loosening them for a moment.”

Relief sparked on Yul’s face, followed quickly by a hint of sulkiness.

“So, you won’t even show this brother your paintings anymore? Before, you were always anxious to show me every new piece you started.”

Flustered, Sohwa shook his head.

“It’s not like that…”

As he opened his mouth to make an excuse, Yul cut him off with a mischievous smile.

“If not that, then what? Will you show me now?”

Sohwa looked at him with a troubled expression.

“It isn’t turning out as I planned, so I haven’t finished it yet, Brother.”

So you won’t show me? Yul’s eyes asked the question. Sohwa finally called out to Eunuch Jeong, who was standing by.

“Bring the painting.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Only then did Yul let out a satisfied laugh and tilt his teacup. Looking at him through Sohwa’s eyes, Jin-mok bit his lip nervously.

He was acting based on Sohwa’s memories, but how long could this strange charade continue? Furthermore, how long could he go without being caught? For now, they seemed to believe his mind was still unstable due to the accident, but how long would this clumsy imitation hold up? It was a constant source of worry.

How much longer must he deceive this kind man who, despite his busy schedule, came to see his injured brother every day? A sigh escaped him involuntarily. Where had the true owner of this body gone—leaving behind siblings who cherished him so much?

Having lost his parents early and grown up alone, Jin-mok had never experienced the warmth of a family. This made his position—wearing clothes that did not belong to him—unbearably uncomfortable.

While Jin-mok barely suppressed the urge to fidget, Yul let out a soft exclamation of wonder as he unfurled the paper Eunuch Jeong had brought.

“Hwa-ya, when you finish this painting, you must give it to me.”

“I will do so.”

Jin-mok nodded without hesitation. If he could just finish it, what did it matter? The problem was that his mind was so troubled the brush would hardly move.

Yul, however, simply smiled with joy, staring at the painting for a long time as if he were falling into it. Watching him, Jin-mok thought of his time in the Great Empire.

‘Mok-ah, when I die, I shall take all of your paintings with me into my tomb. So stay by my side and paint for a long, long time.’

Every time he had presented a new painting, the Emperor of the Great Empire would stare at it just as Yul was doing now, unable to tear his eyes away. Even in the moments he spoke those words, his gaze had never once landed on Jin-mok. Recalling that memory, Jin-mok let out a sorrowful sigh.

At the time, that lack of attention had felt so cold and miserable, yet during the time they were apart, even those moments had become precious memories.

Even if the Emperor didn’t smile back, even if he didn’t look at him, Jin-mok felt he would be happy just to be by his side. How wonderful would it be if they could meet again?

“Hwa-ya, do you have something on your mind?”

Worried by the sigh he had unconsciously let out, Yul looked away from the painting and asked. He set the paper aside and leaned across the tea table toward Sohwa.

“If you have worries, tell your brother. You haven’t already forgotten that I’ve granted your every wish until now, have you? Hmm?”

The handsome man, who usually appeared cold, whispered to Sohwa with a face full of soft smiles. Seeing those narrowing eyes that seemed determined to hear the truth no matter what, Jin-mok swallowed the sigh that threatened to emerge again.

Was it because of the lingering memories of the body’s owner? His heart went out to Sohwa’s brothers. Hearing their worried voices made his heart ache, and facing their gentle smiles made his resolve melt.

Thus, it was only becoming more difficult. Would it be better to just give up and get used to this body? He had thought this many times already. If the owner of the body ever woke up, he could simply return it and move on to the afterlife.

Consequently, Jin-mok was exhausting himself trying to act like Sohwa, reviving every scrap of memory he had in case the real Sohwa ever returned. Moreover, his inability to sleep at night due to his longing for the Emperor left him physically and mentally drained.

Jin-mok felt like crying. Caught in a situation where he could neither move forward nor back, receiving this kind of comfort only agitated his already weary heart.

In the life of Ha Jin-mok, who had lived alone since childhood, there had been only one person who had ever called to him so sweetly. Every time he heard Yul’s kind voice, he was reminded of him, and it hurt. Because the name this man was calling was not Jin-mok’s name, he couldn’t help but picture the face of the person he missed so dearly.

“Worries? What could I possibly have to worry about, Brother?”

On the surface, it appeared that way. Even if Gyeong was a tiny vassal state compared to the Great Empire, Sohwa was the third son of a King who had raised him with extreme care. He had never known hardship; he had grown up without ever having to lift a finger for anything other than his spoon or his brush. What reason could he have for such deep-seated anxiety?

But Jin-mok had heard that Sohwa had tried to take his own life, only to be discovered early and narrowly saved. Of course, there was the minor issue that the one who “survived” was Jin-mok, not the owner of the body.