Struggle Chapter 74

“Of course I’d be worried. Knowing that you, Young master, fall ill every time your sleeping arrangements change.”

“…”

“As expected, you had a fever on the first day, and from the next day on, they said the rain was coming, so I even imagined—what if you, Young master, were trapped in the guest quarters? I even had such thoughts.”

It wasn’t entirely wrong. In fact, it was an imagination that hit remarkably close to the mark. Nanyoung gave a dry cough.

“Let’s just go back quickly, first.”

Precisely because that imagination sharply pricked his conscience, Nanyoung wanted to get away quickly from where Taerok was. He wanted to get as far away as possible.

Sim Eung, who had been following Nanyoung as he went ahead, noticed something strange about his master’s gait and asked, puzzled.

“Young master, but why are you limping?”

“Ah…”

Nanyoung, who hadn’t even realized he was limping, flushed bright red. Nanyoung hurriedly pulled his hat down further to cover his face and replied, deliberately cold.

“I think I… twisted my ankle a bit.”

“Oh my, please be careful. Mustn’t you remain in good health for three years?”

Three years. At those words, Nanyoung came to his senses with a start, as if doused with cold water.

That was it. It was the national mourning period. The three-year mourning had not yet ended, and Nanyoung had been mingling bodies with his uncle.

Nanyoung bit down hard on his lip. And whether his limping got worse or not, whether his pelvis ached and his groin chafed or not, he walked as if fleeing.

Insane. I’m insane. I’m terrified of what I’ve done.

But the one who was most out of his mind was his uncle. His uncle, already scheming treason, was the most insane of all.

But, but…

The force biting down on his lip grew stronger and stronger. Tears welled up in his eyes. It was resentment and anger, self-loathing. The words Taerok had quietly planted kept making him question himself. Had it really been for his brother’s sake? Hadn’t he simply needed a justification for his own lustful desires toward his uncle? If it was loyalty, then why on earth had he felt jealous of his brother? Over nothing but his uncle’s mere teasing words.

∞ ∞ ∞

There was no way for Nanyoung to know what resolution Taerok had made. Not knowing whether he had changed his mind or intended to carry out the plot as planned, his imagination only grew larger and his worry flourished all the more.

Nanyoung could not properly eat his meals, enough to worry Sim Eung, nor could he get proper sleep.

He could feel it himself—his nerves were being worn thin, thread by thread. He was anxious. Of those complicit in the treason Taerok harbored, he knew only two; the rest he knew nothing of. He had no proof, only the fear of not knowing when the sword might be aimed at his brother.

And then…

“Ah…”

Nanyoung wrapped his arms around his own body and curled up.

And then, every night, he dreamed of him. The reason he couldn’t sleep wasn’t only fear; it was also because of that. No, that was the bigger part.

The dreams were so vivid that he would bolt upright, wondering if he was actually being touched, if the man had come and entered him and left him, and he would have to strip off his clothes and fumble over himself. He had to meticulously check that the windows were closed, no matter how hot it was. And then, naked and curled up under the blanket, he had no choice but to repeat to himself that it was just a dream. Because he couldn’t dare ask anyone if, perhaps, his uncle had come into his room—couldn’t ask a question that would invite suspicion.

Was he being excessively neurotic and excessively fastidious? Had a suspiciousness he never had before taken root deep in his bones? But no matter how careful, and careful again, it wasn’t enough. Because the sin he and that man had committed was truly a terrible one…

Nanyoung stroked his own body as if it had become something alien to him. He started, feeling as though Taerok’s hand had covered his own.

And yet, that warmth would not leave his mind.

In truth, the one who kept summoning his uncle into his dreams was none other than himself.

A guest came to Nanyoung’s residence when the late summer had finally yielded to what could truly be called autumn. White Dew had passed, the wind was chilly, and every leaf was ripening into shades of yellow and red.

“Where is Grand Prince Heonui?”

Taerok, whom he had met right after the End of Heat, came looking for him after White Dew had passed.

At that time, Nanyoung happened to have gone to the palace.

“He has gone to have an audience with His Majesty the King.”

Sim Eung, flustered by Taerok’s sudden appearance without any word or warning, answered.

“Alone, even though you are here?”

“He said he would go and return by himself.”

“He didn’t go to meet some other bastard, did he?”

“Pardon…?”

“Never mind.”

Taerok laughed quietly. The smile was so dazzlingly bright that Sim Eung wondered if he had heard correctly.

In the house without its master, Taerok was as unrestrained as if he were the master himself.

“Then I’ll just wait until he returns.”

“B-but, Young master, he…”

“Why? Did Grand Prince Heonui say he wouldn’t be coming back today, so don’t bother waiting?”

Not that, but not knowing when he would return amounted to the same as him not returning. Keeping a guest waiting endlessly was also a poor way to treat a guest, and having a guest act like this was also a vexing affair.

But this was no ordinary guest; he was a Grand Prince and his master’s uncle. The late king’s younger brother.

Taerok ignored Sim Eung’s consternation and entered the guest quarters.

“This is a room exactly like Lee Nanyoung.”

Inside the guest quarters, orchids were everywhere. Beyond the door, too, there were well-tended, lush shrubs.

For some reason, Sim Eung’s face grew hot at the sound of that voice murmuring as he tapped the tip of an orchid leaf with his finger. Didn’t he speak of his nephew as if calling a lover? But this was surely his own delusion. There was no way.

“See to your duties.”

Taerok murmured, almost humming, as he removed his formal hat. His gaze was still roaming over the traces of Nanyoung.

Sim Eung withdrew, and Taerok settled into the armchair that Nanyoung usually sat in. He took in the well-used writing implements and the rolled-up painting supplies.

Then, he closed his eyes at the scent coming in through the open window.

It was the smell of bitter wood and the scent of fully ripened fallen leaves.

The sound of the paper inside his robes rustled, like the sound of stepping on fallen leaves.

∞ ∞ ∞

“Why have you grown so thin? Does life outside the palace not suit you?”

Nanyoung felt such guilt toward his brother, who asked him so tenderly, that he couldn’t even taste the tea he was drinking.

“How many years has it been since I left the palace, that I couldn’t adapt, Your Majesty? I must simply be feeling the change of seasons.”

“I see…. Feeling the seasons, and many things have changed as well.”

The king nodded slightly and added quietly.

“We have also been through much…”

It likely meant having lost both a father and a king, but to Nanyoung, it struck with a different meaning.

It could still be considered the mourning period, yet during that time he had mingled bodies with his uncle. He had used loyalty as a self-issued absolution, but his uncle had stripped him bare and pried him open, laying everything bare, just as he had stripped off his clothes and delved into his body. Telling him that he had simply lusted after his uncle, and wanted to give that lust a justification.

He couldn’t deny it.

“Grand Prince Heonui.”

The king called to Nanyoung, who had been staring fixedly at the rippling surface of his tea. He dismissed those around them, then asked more quietly.

“Nanyoung, is something the matter?”

“…”

“Am I not your brother before I am king? If you have some worry, tell me.”

Nanyoung’s lips quivered.

Something the matter… there is. There’s something, above all, that I must report to Your Majesty.

“…Have you ever had a private audience with Grand Prince Baegan?”

“You mean Uncle?”

The king faintly furrowed his brow. Soon, he shook his head.

“I have not.”

At a young age, he had, for a very brief time, felt jealous of his younger brother whom everyone adored and never burdened, but that was no longer the case. It was only that once, and he could state with certainty that he had never had such a thought since. And especially not regarding his uncle. That man, his uncle, was cold and had affection for no one. It wasn’t that he was kind to everyone but cold only to him—Nanyoung was such an exception that one could call it peculiar.

Hadn’t he long since passed the age and position where one feels jealousy over something peculiar rather than special? They weren’t close, so a private audience was a distant prospect.

“Is it because something has happened to Uncle?”

Thinking that since the two of them were close, Nanyoung might be so downcast because some misfortune had befallen their uncle, the king asked carefully.

Nanyoung gripped the cup tightly.

“N-no. It’s nothing.”

So he hadn’t come. He hadn’t even spoken of it. What on earth was he thinking? Was he truly intending to commit treason? What had his brother, no, what had they, the brothers, done wrong, for him to be so impartially cruel?