Struggle Chapter 50

“It has been three days, so you may now eat something.”

“…”

Nanyoung turned toward the direction of the sound. It was not because it was Taerok that he turned, but merely because a sound had come from that direction. Taerok crouched down in front of Nanyoung.

“Following after him would hardly be filial piety. Do you mean to die like this?”

“…Do not say such things.”

“Fine. I do not wish to say such things either. The one who least wishes to see you like this, more than anyone, is me.”

“…”

“At least among the living, I would be the one who thinks of you the most.”

It was not wrong, but the words “among the living” stabbed sharply at Nanyoung. He pushed Taerok’s chest away.

“Even so, it is your own elder brother and king who has passed—how can you speak like that?”

“That is simply how it is between a grand prince and a king. And such is the dignity a member of the royal clan must uphold. Even if it sounds cold-hearted, your greatest duty is to keep your own center. Later, when you, too, lose your elder brother, you will understand me…”

It was a remark so chillingly dangerous. Nanyoung cut Taerok’s words clean off.

“Do not… do not speak like that.”

At the eyes glaring at him, Taerok finally smiled.

“Yes. Now you look a little more like a living person. Follow me. I do not have the leeway to hold a grand prince’s funeral as well.”

Taerok seized Nanyoung’s arm, which was pushing him away and struggling wildly, and pulled him along.

The residence where Nanyoung had once stayed was exceedingly quiet. Side dishes consisting only of bland, seasoned greens without a single piece of meat, and rice gruel, were brought in. In place of Nanyoung, who stubbornly kept his head turned with no intention of picking up his spoon, Taerok stirred the gruel. It occurred to him that he seemed to see Nanyoung eating gruel far more often than properly chewing grains of rice.

Holding out the cooled gruel toward Nanyoung, Taerok asked, like a sigh.

“Is it anger, or is it sorrow.”

“…”

“Or is it separate. Anger toward me, and toward the late king…”

“I am angry at myself.”

Nanyoung answered with his head still turned. A stubborn set of the lips. Looking at Nanyoung’s lips, Taerok unconsciously brushed his own lips. Though he had almost no interest in his own appearance, still, he thought that at least in that part, the two of them resembled each other. Lee Nanyoung, there is one feature of mine you so wished to have, and you do have it. Though even if I told you now, you would not be pleased.

“If you’re going to do it, do it properly.”

Having discovered the resemblance between Nanyoung’s lips and his own, Taerok admonished him in a voice grown considerably softer.

“If you meant to treat it as a mistake, then don’t remember it at all, don’t let it show in front of me, and treat me as you did before. As you did in the days when you used to call me ‘Uncle, Uncle.'”

“I don’t want to…!”

At Taerok’s composed words, Nanyoung shouted. But what force could a voice that had fasted for three days possibly muster in anger? The number of palace attendants on duty had also decreased due to the mourning period, and there were even fewer in this residence than usual. Once Nanyoung left the palace, it was at a level where it merely needed to be maintained, so there were at most two or three.

“You won’t do this, you won’t do that. Must I understand all of this as your uncle as well?”

“…”

“Cherishing you, dear nephew, is quite difficult at times.”

“…”

“Then it is not anger at yourself, but anger at me.”

Nanyoung continued to remain utterly silent. He did not wish to speak of that day’s events. They had committed the same act, yet only one of them was in such torment. Seeing that, Taerok decided to yield one step. Even if this one step became the step by which he yielded forever, he would grant it. If there was to be a single surrender in his lifetime—yes, he would use it for you.

“Very well. Let us consider it a mistake.”

Only then did Nanyoung’s gaze waver.

“Let us agree that I, too, do not remember. Nothing happened that night.”

Taerok tapped the gruel bowl lightly with the spoon.

“In exchange, you, dear nephew, will also forget everything that happened with the Commander-General’s son. And never again be curious about such things. By now, you will have learned thoroughly what happens if you act recklessly.”

Soon Taerok set down the spoon. Then he rose from his seat. At the sign of Taerok suddenly about to leave, Nanyoung turned his head.

“…”

Nanyoung’s eyes were exactly the same as when he was five years old, hiding behind the eunuch and looking at him. They were lonely, like the way he had stood as a messenger at Taerok’s wedding ceremony at the age of ten. They trembled, like the lips of the fifteen-year-old who had been wounded by the words telling him not to act like a child.

“Dear nephew, I do not know what you want me to do right now…”

At Taerok’s fierce question, Nanyoung wore an uncomprehending expression. It was the face of one who, at any moment, would reach out a hand and tell him not to go, that he was too lonely and afraid.

Taerok was utterly dumbfounded. Gauging and accommodating his nephew’s heart was damnably difficult. Never in his life had he shown this degree of consideration toward another person. The boy had done something fearless, so he had scolded him a little, and because he had been so frightened by the scolding, Taerok had thought he would step back. For the boy had just lost his father, after all.

But you—you do not know how far I was prepared to go for you, do you. Because you are still too young to understand.

Taerok clenched his teeth. Then he pushed aside the octagonal tray table before him. A clatter rang out as the spoons knocked against each other. Startled by the sound, Nanyoung reached a hand behind him to brace against the floor.

“Uk…!”

Nanyoung’s eyes flew wide open. Lee Taerok had covered the hand he had stretched back to the floor for escape, pressing it down, and had seized the back of his head, pulling it in as he tried to retreat.

Their lips touched. Startled and rigid, Nanyoung’s lips were hard. Because he did not relax his teeth, it tore open Taerok’s lip. Unconcerned, Taerok pushed his tongue inside and rubbed swiftly and firmly against the soft roof of Nanyoung’s mouth.

“Hu-uh…!”

The roof of Nanyoung’s mouth was weak. His spine went stiff. Taerok gripped Nanyoung’s hand as if to crush it and closed his eyes.

And seeing Taerok’s closed eyes, Nanyoung, too, unconsciously let his own eyelids fall shut.

With everything silent all around and nothing visible, his body grew ever more feverish. Taerok knew his waist was flinching because of Nanyoung’s knee, which touched his thigh and then pulled away. Ever since he was young, he had thought Nanyoung’s body was soft, and it seemed that remained the same even after he had grown. The soft body responded in proportion to the force applied to it.

Taerok, who had been rubbing against Nanyoung’s molars—which must have been the last to grow in—detached his lips. Nanyoung opened his eyes as well. His complexion, which had gone beyond pale to looking as though he might faint at any moment, was a sight to behold. Taerok wiped the blood that had smeared on Nanyoung’s lips with his thumb, then rubbed it against his own lips. Nanyoung unconsciously reached his hand toward the wound on Taerok’s lip, only to be caught by Taerok.

“Uncle, have you truly gone mad…!”

Nanyoung could hold it in no longer and burst out.

“We are in the middle of mourning!”

He was so angry and confounded that his mind went bright red.

“I know that. I, too, am in mourning for my elder brother.”

Likewise, Taerok’s mind was dark red. Only, he was not confounded.

Taerok rose from his place, leaving Nanyoung. Glancing at the octagonal table he had pushed aside, Taerok suddenly extended his foot toward Nanyoung’s knee. As he pressed down firmly, Nanyoung let out a groan—”Eu-uk.”

“You would not look at another person with such eyes, would you.”

“Hu… ah, it hurts…”

“Such a thing must never happen. Do you understand? There must be no one in your life, aside from me, whom you look at in that way.”

Nanyoung did not know what kind of eyes Taerok was talking about. Empty inside, his mind would not work properly. But because of that, without anything to hide or avoid, an answer reflexively burst forth.

“Yes… uu… I… will not.”

Without knowing why Taerok was so angry, Nanyoung nodded. The words “I will not,” uttered in a tearful voice, were followed by Taerok removing the foot that had been pressing down firmly.

He had not intended to press him this hard. But such a habit had to be rooted out in advance. Even if it meant Nanyoung would no longer look at him with such eyes either—that was all right.

Taerok let out a long breath—hu-uk. Taerok pressed firmly against the front of his white samo. Beneath the headband wrapped around his forehead, there was a throbbing ache. Behind Taerok, who had turned away, the sound of weeping began to be heard. Not an unsightly, grating sniffling, but the sound of holding one’s breath, desperately trying to suppress any noise.

That sound gradually brought Taerok’s reason back. Taerok closed his eyes. He exhaled deeply, then turned around again.

“…Did I startle you.”