The Gaze of Longing

Was it not strange? He had kept the painter by his side simply because he liked the man’s art, and because it was amusing to see that foolish face break into a wide, simple-minded grin. Why, then, did the memory of him linger like a phantom before his eyes now?

This Prince was even more peculiar. He looked nothing like the painter, yet looking into those eyes caused an inexplicable emotion to surge within Sang-gang. As he read the very same gaze the painter used to send his way reflected in this stranger’s eyes, a sense of confusion washed over him.

What should I do? Should I just kill him after all?

Sohwa had stopped crying and was blankly accepting Sang-gang’s touch as if it were something familiar. His deathly pale face even seemed to regain a hint of color.

Suddenly, Sang-gang felt a dampness on the bridge of his foot where the Prince’s lower body was pressed. He narrowed his eyes. Now that he noticed it, the sharp scent of urine reached his nose.

Following Sang-gang’s gaze to his foot, Sohwa finally realized he had soiled himself. He scrambled backward in a panic and prostrated himself flat.

“Kill m—no, spare me, Your Majesty. I should die… no, this humble servant has sinned… please, spare my life.”

Sang-gang burst into laughter at the Prince’s mangled, rambling words. Having laughed aloud for the first time in a long while, the unpleasant mood from earlier seemed to vanish.

Meeting the gaze that looked up at him in a daze, Sang-gang called for the Royal Secretary.

“Royal Secretary, where is the Prince’s residence?”

“I believe a small pavilion near the Eastern Palace has been prepared, Your Majesty.”

The Eastern Palace. Most hostages from other nations were indeed settled in that vicinity.

“Is Bogyeongdang Hall still vacant?”

“Yes… Your Majesty. It remains empty.”

It was likely being kept vacant because people had died there, leading to rumors of it being ill-omened. Sang-gang nodded at the Secretary’s answer.

“Give Bogyeongdang to the Prince as his quarters. Tell the eunuchs to wash him thoroughly and prepare his official robes.”

Sang-gang then spoke quietly to Sohwa, who remained frozen in bewilderment.

“I shall visit you tonight. At that time, you will prove that you were the one who painted that portrait. If I am satisfied, I shall let you live.”

“Yo—Your grace is immeasurable.”

Sang-gang narrowed his eyes again at the Prince’s dazed response as he lay prostrate.

When they first exchanged greetings, the Prince had carried himself with a decorum befitting his status. To think a little intimidation could change a man so much. The sight of those trembling shoulders felt foreign, yet strangely familiar.

Strange indeed. Sang-gang tilted his head slightly while looking down at Sohwa’s back. Why did the face of the dead painter keep overlapping with this man? It was truly incomprehensible.

Watching the back that continued to hiccup and sob silently with his face pressed to the floor, Sang-gang leaned back against the throne.

“Prince.”

Even at that soft call, the boy flinched and lifted his head. Why did he have that look in his eyes, even while fat tears fell from them as if his entire body were made of water?

Whenever those shimmering pupils trembled, Sang-gang’s grip tightened on the armrest of his throne.

“Return, bathe, and await me. I despise those who cry excessively, so it would be best if you have ceased your weeping when we meet again this evening. Do you understand?”

Sang-gang whispered these words with a feigned tenderness, and in response, the Prince hurriedly wiped his face with his sleeves. The tears were wiped away, but his eyes grew wet again instantly.

Sohwa looked flustered as he tried repeatedly to brush away the overflowing tears. He seemed to be trying his best to stop, but they would not obey him.

Sang-gang rested his chin on his palm, watching the boy’s foolish expression. Every time those round eyes blinked slowly, water seeped out to dampen his face, and he would immediately rub his cheeks and eyes with the back of his hand.

His eyes, already flushed from crying, were becoming increasingly red.

“Your eyes will become raw if you keep that up.”

Sang-gang tapped his cheek with a finger. His own fingers were twitching of their own accord, as if they wanted to reach out and touch those inflamed eyelids.

At the sound of his voice, Sohwa blinked slowly. Looking at the face staring blankly back at him, Sang-gang saw Jin-mok’s gaze overlapping once more.

“Prince, did you know me from before?”

The boy, whose cheeks were puffed from crying, hesitated before shaking his head.

“I have heard much of Your Majesty’s… great fame. But I know nothing beyond the rumors that circulate among the people.”

Perhaps he had regained some composure, for his manner of speech had returned to a formal tone. Sang-gang’s right eyebrow twitched upward—a reflexive habit whenever something displeased him.

And yet, Sang-gang couldn’t find anything particularly displeasing about the answer. It was exactly what he had expected. How much could a young prince from Gyeong, a kingdom far from the Great Empire, truly know about him? As the boy said, he likely only knew of him through rumors.

If not the content, was it the sudden return to formal speech that he disliked? Sang-gang pondered for a moment while maintaining eye contact with the Prince.

“Head Eunuch, assign a personal eunuch to the Prince.”

As he gave the order to the Head Eunuch waiting beside the Royal Secretary, he felt the man quietly slip out of the interrogation grounds. Sang-gang leaned in and whispered to Sohwa with a soft smile on his lips.

“If you do not know me, Prince, then why do you look at me with such eyes?”

“…How am I looking at Your Majesty?”

A flush crept over the boy’s dazed face. Was it the flickering light of the torches illuminating the courtyard, or had he truly turned red? Sang-gang let out a low chuckle.

“You look at me as if you are pleading for my royal favor.”

The Prince’s eyes, already round, stretched wide. His lips parted in equal surprise before he threw himself back onto the ground in a plea.

“Ki—no, please forgive my insolence!”

Insolence. He didn’t deny it; he called it insolence. Did that mean he truly desired it?

Sang-gang tilted his head to the side, still resting on his hand. His expression remained indifferent, but a hint of mischief colored his voice.

“Well, if you truly desire it so, shall I grant you my favor?”

Sohwa lifted his face in shock, his mouth working wordlessly before he dropped his head again.

“How could I desire such a thing in the body of a man? I beg you to cease such conjectures. I was merely confessing the sin of staring at Your Majesty so rudely.”

Sang-gang laughed and straightened his posture.

“Whether you are a man has nothing to do with me granting favor. Ah, was sodomy forbidden in Gyeong?”

In the Great Empire, the history of enjoying the company of men was quite long. In fact, there had been several male concubines in the imperial household, so his gender was no issue at all.

However, Sang-gang had never shown much interest in men before. Yet, for some reason, looking into the Prince’s eyes made his blood begin to stir.

Sohwa flinched visibly. Watching the boy squeeze his eyes shut, Sang-gang ran his tongue over his lips. He felt a surge of something that could be excitement, or perhaps irritation.

And for a brief moment, the face of the dead painter was superimposed over the Prince’s. Sang-gang sighed in spite of himself.

Perhaps I should have taken him once before he died. He had believed he never harbored lust for the painter, but seeing this Prince and thinking of Jin-mok made him realize that the feelings he held might have been closer to desire than he thought.

Realizing this now changed nothing, but it left a bitter taste of regret.

Sohwa sat there biting his lower lip, unable to offer a response. Sang-gang considered barking a reprimand for his impudence, but seeing the moisture seeping through the boy’s tightly shut eyes, he decided against it.

Instead, as he rose from the throne, Sang-gang spoke sharply.

“I told you just a moment ago that I do not like those who weep. You truly must hold my words in low regard.”

After the sound of a sharp intake of breath, the boy lifted his tear-filled eyes. He shook his head frantically, his large eyes filled with a desperate light of entreaty.

“No, it is not like that at all. How could I… how could I dare harbor such wicked thoughts? I simply… it is my fault. I beg for your generous forgiveness.”

Sang-gang let out a chuckle as he turned to leave the interrogation grounds.

“You certainly have a lot to apologize for. If you intend to beg for all of it, your knees will wear away before you are finished. You had best find another way.”

Jin-mok gazed endlessly at the Emperor’s back as he walked out of the courtyard after having his final say.

His mind was spinning from the Emperor’s mention of “royal favor,” and he hadn’t even had the chance to process what the final words meant.

He had only just realized that he had been looking at the Emperor with those kinds of eyes. To have it pointed out so directly left him in a state of confused agony. He was so preoccupied with this realization that nothing else reached his ears.

What must the Emperor have thought of me? His face burned hot. He wanted to find a hole to crawl into and hide.

Good heavens. I must have gone mad after coming back to life. Not only had he harbored such lustful thoughts toward the Emperor, but he had also been caught. What was he to do now?

As Jin-mok spiraled into panic, a eunuch approached him.