Struggle Chapter 49

“His Majesty the King’s condition is said to be critical. So if you do not wish to miss the moment, you will have to set aside your feelings toward me, get up, and conduct yourself as befits a grand prince.”

At those words, Nanyoung bolted his upper body upright. Taerok turned his head from the window toward Nanyoung.

“…”

“As a son, and as a younger brother, not just as a grand prince, you must avoid the misfortune of missing the moment.”

The face that clutched the blanket and stared at him was desolate.

∞ ∞ ∞

“Even if it means a slight detour, let us avoid the mountains as much as possible. There is no telling how the rain may fall. If there is a landslide or a fallen tree along the way, it will be troublesome.”

Taerok commanded those who were packing the traveling gear. The servants, who were loading all the luggage and covering it with oiled cloth, answered, “Yes.”

Nanyoung, who had finished his preparations a little late, came out. Nanyoung was keeping his arm as still as possible in order to hide his injured wrist with his sleeve. As a result, his walking posture was rather stiff. No one but Taerok had noticed that behavior and the reason for it. Because only Taerok knew what had happened on the day that wrist was injured.

Turning his body away from Nanyoung, Taerok gave the order.

“Grand Prince Heonui will ride with me. As for Grand Prince Heonui’s horse…”

“No…!”

At Taerok’s words, which had not even asked his opinion, Nanyoung showed his reluctance. He hastily cut him off.

“I will ride my own horse.”

“…”

“…I shall pretend I did not hear what you said, Uncle…”

The longer Taerok stared fixedly at him, the more Nanyoung’s head drooped like ripened rice. Taerok approached Nanyoung, whose words trailed off.

But perhaps only two of Taerok’s strides had closed the distance. Nanyoung stepped backward.

“…”

At the open act of avoidance, Taerok raised one eyebrow crookedly. Then, as if he had not noticed such a thing, he approached again.

Then Nanyoung drew further away, and Taerok approached again. Just before he could retreat even more, Taerok seized Nanyoung and pulled him in. He deliberately grasped the injured wrist.

“Ah…!”

“With a wrist in this state, can you even hold the reins?”

Nanyoung turned pale, afraid someone might see. He flailed his arm, risking further injury to his wrist, to shake off Taerok’s hand. Fortunately, unlike before, Taerok let go immediately. Hiding his wrist behind his back, Nanyoung glared resentfully at Taerok.

“Don’t do this. There are people here.”

In a voice lowered as far as it would go, he did something akin to snarling. Taerok snorted. This was not a threat—it looked far more like a plea.

“What concern is it of yours if others see an uncle worrying about his nephew.”

“…”

“It is almost as if you are misinterpreting my actions, dear nephew.”

Misinterpreting… How could there be any misinterpretation between us? Nanyoung felt wronged. Toward that Nanyoung, Taerok inclined his head. Then he put on a rather grave expression. To others, it appeared as though they were sharing some matter of the royal family into which outsiders should not intrude.

Only Nanyoung’s expression, hidden by Taerok’s head, was as wretched as that of one suddenly subjected to mockery.

Having finished his whisper, Taerok straightened his body again. Then he turned away. They were just then bringing out his horse and Nanyoung’s horse from the stable. Thanks to the meticulous brushing, the horses’ coats gleamed with oil. As if nothing had happened, Taerok was soothing his black horse, saying, “The weather is foul, so your mood is none too good, is it.” Watching that scene, Nanyoung’s face flushed bright red. Then he clapped his palm over the ear into which Taerok had whispered.

‘Nanyoung. If you act like that, how can this uncle believe what you said—that you would consider that day’s events a mistake and forget them.’

What Taerok had said moments ago was that.

His father was critical. It was early morning. Though dark clouds had gathered, the sun hung high above, looking down upon them—and Taerok had spoken of that day’s events aloud.

Nanyoung scrubbed roughly at his ear, then approached Taerok, who was about to remove the saddle from his horse on his own authority.

“I will manage on my own.”

Clenching his teeth as he spat this at Taerok, Nanyoung led his horse and fell back. Taerok’s gaze did not fall away for some time from the sight of Nanyoung and the brown horse standing side by side as he turned away.

∞ ∞ ∞

Upon returning, Nanyoung immediately prepared to enter the palace. Even Sim Eung, who ordinarily would have told him to rest, could say nothing now. It meant the king’s condition was that critical. A heavy atmosphere, so palpable that one’s skin prickled, unlike usual, weighed down upon the entire palace. Nanyoung straightaway tidied his attire and left his residence.

Even as he traveled with Sim Eung to the palace where the king was staying, Nanyoung was silent. Only, having set out on a summer retreat to avoid the journey and the heat, yet having encountered something far worse than the heat along the way, Nanyoung’s face had grown haggard. As if struck against something, one corner of his lips was chapped and cracked, and dead skin had risen. His complexion was pale, and the thin skin around his eyes was raised and red. The worst was his wrist, but at least it was concealed beneath the purple sleeves of his official robes.

Sim Eung continually studied Nanyoung’s complexion. Though he sat upright with a straight back upon his horse, he looked as though it would not be surprising if his eyes slid shut at any moment and he toppled sideways. That he endured was solely due to Nanyoung’s willpower. Nanyoung chewed the inside of his cheeks with his teeth until the inside of his mouth was raw.

When they reached the capital and parted ways to their respective palaces, Nanyoung turned away without even a word of farewell to his uncle—a breach of decorum. At Nanyoung’s back, his uncle called out to him in a voice that, even without being raised, lodged firmly in the ears of everyone present.

‘Nanyoung.’

He could not bear how flush with embarrassment he was that Taerok called him by name in front of others, instead of saying Grand Prince Heonui or “dear nephew.” It was merely an uncle calling his nephew’s name, yet it felt more obscene than any act. A throbbing ache seized his lower belly as if tightening at the sound of his own name, but Nanyoung did not look back. I am the only one who feels this. No one knows what happened between my uncle and me. He repeated this countless times, like a mantra.

Still, he could not turn around. For fear that everything would be discovered.

‘Nanyoung.’

His uncle’s voice, calling him again, was still without the slightest stir.

‘Until we meet again.’

We would meet again. We would meet again in the palace. There would not even be the distance between a senior official and a junior official between us. Because we are family, because we are grand princes, we would stand upon the same line. This time, there would be no vacant seat beside him as there had been at the Crown Prince’s wedding ceremony.

Nanyoung was afraid of that. So afraid that he prayed for his father’s well-being and desperately hoped that this crisis would pass as nothing more than a fleeting moment of danger.

I am an unfilial son.

Nanyoung’s head dropped forward. Tears fell—thud, thud. Sim Eung believed it was out of worry for the king. Knowing that Sim Eung would think so, Nanyoung’s tears could not easily be stopped.

The king passed away three days after Nanyoung returned. Nanyoung wept until he was on the verge of fainting. Even though the times for weeping according to ritual were prescribed, he could not wait for them. Even if it went against the rites, he could not help it.

For Nanyoung, it was a rare moment when his mind grew weaker than his body. That was how much he needed Taerok. Nanyoung resented Lee Taerok and hated him, and at the same time, he missed him terribly. He was the person Nanyoung longed for most when he was at his weakest. Because all throughout his growing up, his uncle had been his closest—no, his only—adult, his companion, his teacher. Because his uncle was his pillar of support.

Yet when Taerok actually came, Nanyoung did not even give him a glance.

The longing was momentary; the sense of loss was far greater now. And he was afraid as well. A change of king meant the world was entering a new era. Now the era name would change, and he was no longer the king’s son but the king’s younger brother. It was a state funeral during which he could not sleep anyway, yet Nanyoung, even so, would often slip into a brief doze and then wake with a violent start, bolting upright.

When Taerok found Nanyoung sitting vacantly, the first thing he did was click his tongue. Still, Nanyoung showed no response.

“…”

Nanyoung’s face, blank and dazed from excessive weeping, was even more drained. The skin around his eyes, chafed raw and red, his cheeks, utterly parched and encrusted with salt from tears… His hair was loosened and disheveled, and the sight of his nephew, even more listless from not having eaten for three days, made Taerok say nothing at all.

Taerok, too, had lost his elder brother, yet he was not in such agony as this. The Crown Prince, who had now become king, had no room to look after his younger brother. Only Taerok remained.

“Grand Prince Heonui.”

As they were within the palace, Taerok called Nanyoung with formality.