An Impossible Wish Granted

The qualifications for a hostage were strictly limited to those of royal blood. Regardless of whether they were born to the Queen or a concubine, anyone carrying the King’s lineage was eligible. To account for cases where there might be no heir to the throne, the eligibility extended exactly to the King’s grandchildren. The problem, however, was that the King had no concubines.

The King had won the Queen’s hand only after promising her that he would never take a concubine as long as he lived. Having fallen in love with her after seeing her at palace events during their youth, the King remained devoted to her, and their marital harmony was renowned to this day.

Furthermore, neither Yul nor Yeon-gyeong had grown children. Yul had only just wed the previous year and had no news of an heir yet, while Yeon-gyeong, having married at fifteen, had only just fathered a single infant son still at the breast.

Yul let out a heavy sigh and drained the wine cup he had been toyed with. The lingering sweetness in his mouth turned cloying and stale, making him regret drinking it at all. As Yul grimaced, Yeon-gyeong’s brow furrowed in sympathy. After a moment of deliberation, the younger brother struck the table with his palm.

“I will go, Brother.”

Yul could only gape at Yeon-gyeong, unable to find an answer. It was painfully obvious that if Yeon-gyeong did not go, Sohwa would have to. Since Yul was the heir, he was barred from serving as a hostage, leaving only three candidates: the two brothers and Yeon-gyeong’s infant. However, it was fundamentally impossible to send a child who hadn’t even reached his hundredth-day celebration on such a grueling journey. In reality, the choice was between Sohwa and Yeon-gyeong.

Sohwa was the cherished younger brother they adored, while Yeon-gyeong was the head of the Royal Guard, burdened with the immense responsibility of the capital’s security. Of course, Yeon-gyeong was also a brother whom Yul loved and trusted deeply—though he was far too large to be considered “dainty.”

Yul had been tormented by this dilemma for days ever since the letter arrived. There were only two people he could send, yet he wished to send neither.

The King felt the same. He discussed the matter with his ministers daily, but their opinions, predictably, converged on Sohwa.

Both the King and Yul, who doted on the youngest, were infuriated by the consensus. Yet, fury provided no clever solution. How could they easily decide to send a child who had only recently been so ill to serve as a hostage in the Empire? And yet, for the sake of the kingdom, it was a choice that offered no alternative.

The King and Yul had been idling away the time, unable to reach a conclusion. The answer was already before them, but they were desperately searching for reasons why it shouldn’t be the right one.

Listening to Yeon-gyeong, Yul swallowed a groan of pain.

“You… Haa.”

Stopping himself mid-sentence, Yul shook his head firmly.

“It cannot be.”

It hadn’t been that long since the wars in Gyeong had ended. Between the lingering aftermath of conflict and the constant pressure from the Great Empire, Gyeong’s situation was already precarious. Furthermore, because wars continued in neighboring lands until recently, refugees were still streaming across the borders. Consequently, the nation’s internal security had remained unstable for far too long.

Things were finally improving now that Yeon-gyeong had taken command of the Royal Guard and was diligently training new recruits. They were continuing to gather more soldiers, and those who finished their training were soon to be dispatched across the country.

At a time when stability was just beginning to take root, his absence would be disastrous.

In truth, Yul, Yeon-gyeong, and the King all knew exactly who had to go.

But could they truly sleep soundly after sending that child, as fragile and weak as a single flower? Could a child who had grown up seeing only beauty, pampered within the palace walls, truly survive the imperial court of a foreign land?

Because of these fears, they stood before the answer but could not choose it, doing nothing but sighing. Naturally, they hadn’t even been able to broach the subject with the person involved.

“Are you saying an envoy from the Great Empire is coming, Brother?”

Sohwa’s eyes widened at the unexpected news from Yul, who had come to visit as he did every day. Yul, about to lift his teacup to his lips, nodded.

“They will cross the border within three or four days.”

Sohwa desperately tried to hide the way his heart plummeted and asked,

“Whatever for, so suddenly…?”

Has the Emperor somehow realized I am here? Jin-mok trembled, his mind conjuring impossible reasons.

Yul smiled as if it were nothing and took a sip of tea. After swallowing, he set the cup down with a leisurely air and replied to Sohwa.

“The Emperor’s birthday is approaching. They are likely coming to demand tribute.”

The Emperor’s birthday. Jin-mok let out a silent gasp as he remembered what he had hidden inside the mother-of-pearl cabinet in his old quarters: the Imperial Portrait he had been secretly painting to finish in time for the birthday.

What has become of it? Yul, glancing at the darkening expression on Sohwa’s face, continued.

“Hwa-ya, as for the tribute to be sent to the Empire this time…”

He trailed off again, simply staring at Sohwa. Sohwa blinked rapidly, prompting him.

“Is there something specific that must be included in this tribute? And when will the caravan depart?”

If the timing is right, could I repaint the Emperor’s portrait and send it along?

“A member of the royal family must accompany them,” Yul finished with a look of profound grief.

“If no one has been chosen, I wish to go.”

Jin-mok blurted the words out before he could stop himself, then clamped his mouth shut in shock. He didn’t know when the real Sohwa might wake up, so going on a long journey was a reckless idea. He knew this, yet the thought that he might actually be able to go to the Great Empire made him sit up straight with excitement.

I want to go. Tribute must be delivered to the Emperor personally; if he went to the Great Empire with the envoy, he would be able to see him.

The mere thought made his heart race. Thump, thump. Listening to the heavy pulse of his heart, Jin-mok felt the heat rising in Sohwa’s face.

Jin-mok was so excited he didn’t even notice that Yul was staring at him in stunned silence. He fanned his warming face with his hand to cool down. Fidgeting, he moistened his dry mouth with tea, and only then did he realize that Yul’s reaction was far from normal.

“Brother, what is the matter?”

Yul was still staring at Sohwa with a grief-stricken expression. Why is he like that? Jin-mok, fearing his true identity had been discovered, avoided his gaze. It was a long time before Yul spoke.

“Do you understand what it means to be part of the tribute to the Great Empire? You would be going as the Emperor’s hostage. It is a journey from which you may never know when you can return.”

Gasp. Internally, Jin-mok let out a shout of joy. However, he lowered his eyes, pretending to be unbothered. In his mind, he was already inside the Imperial Palace of the Great Empire.

His heart had already flown to the side of the Emperor, a man he could picture even with his eyes closed. Without a thought for Sohwa’s affairs or those of his family, Jin-mok closed his eyes and summoned the image of the Emperor.

Once he had calmed his racing heart, Jin-mok spoke clearly to Yul.

“I will go, Brother. After all, isn’t that why you came to see me?”

Yul was the heir and therefore excluded, and Yeon-gyeong held a vital position. There was no way they would send the busy Commander as a hostage, so it was only right that Sohwa, who did nothing but pass the time with hobbies, should go.

Jin-mok completely pushed the thought that Sohwa might wake up out of his mind. He decided to tuck away all his guilt as well. Later—if Sohwa ever returned—he resolved to offer his full apologies then.

That was how much he wanted to return to his side.

He just wanted to see him once more, even if only from a great distance.

Because of his guilt, he couldn’t look Yul in his hardened face. Keeping his eyes downcast, Jin-mok prayed inwardly, Please. Even when Yul wore a hollow, empty expression, Jin-mok only hoped he would grant permission to go to the Empire.

Then, Yul’s voice drifted over him, sounding like a broken sigh.

“I… I simply cannot understand what you are thinking.”

He murmured to himself with a look of absolute sorrow.

“Why you made that choice, why you want to leave this place… Your brother truly does not know. It only makes me feel a hollow sort of bitterness.”

Jin-mok could tell from Yul’s expression that the “choice” he spoke of was not this current conversation. The realization that he had been so swept up in his own excitement that he failed to consider those being left behind caused a surge of apology in his chest.

“Brother…”

Perhaps Yul had sensed it. Jin-mok recalled the way Yul’s eyes would sink into shadow whenever the once-affectionate younger brother wore a look of uncomfortable distance. Not knowing what to say, Jin-mok looked at Yul with trembling eyes. Yul let out a small sigh and gave a soft smile.

“Hwa-ya.”

“Yes, Brother.”

“This matter is still under discussion, so we will think on it more before a decision is made. Do not trouble yourself; just focus on your recovery.”

Jin-mok felt he couldn’t let this chance slip away. So, in a rare move, he pleaded with Yul once more.

“But, Brother. You are the heir to this kingdom and must remain at your post, and Brother Yeon-gyeong also holds a key position and cannot be absent. Therefore, it is only right that I go.”

Yul let out a faint, hollow laugh.