Chapter 16

For the past twenty-one years, the Gyeon family had been struck by a terrible calamity: the so-gaju¹ and his wife, along with the eldest son, Gyeon Saheon, perished; not long after, the head of the family (gaju), who had been bedridden from the shock, also passed away.

Losing both the gaju and the so-gaju in a single moment sent the Gyeon household reeling.

The one who barely held it together was the Grand Lady, Jang Su-hwa.

She had been the third wife of the former gaju, Gyeon Geukhyeon — not a concubine like in other families, but a lawful wife who came in after the first two nangnang² had both died.

The first, Yeon I-rang, had borne the eldest son, Gyeon Gi-wol; the second, Park I-rang, had borne the second son, Gyeon Gak-hyeong, and the third son, Gyeon Sugyeol. Unlike them, Lady Jang had no children of her own.

However, she had earned the trust of both the family and its retainers by treating them with courtesy and fairness, managing the affairs of the Gyeon household at the side of the gaju for decades.

After the gaju passed away, Lady Jang became the daebuin³ — the most senior elder in the family. She continued to resolve the household’s affairs, but in the end, she was only acting as a proxy head. The last — and most important — duty of the daebuin was to appoint the next gaju according to the will of the former head.

Since the so-gaju had died before any successor was named, the next head would have to be chosen in a Grand Assembly of the elders and retainers. Yet for some reason, the daebuin postponed the selection until the year that would mark the end of the three-year mourning period for the former gaju Gyeon Geukhyeon, the so-gaju Gyeon Gi-wol, and his wife, Cheong Wui-ho.

It was almost inevitable that conflict would arise between the second son, Gyeon Gak-hyeong, who held the position of Chief Steward (chonggwan), and the third son, Gyeon Sugyeol, who commanded the Uigang Guard (Uigangdae).

By the time the two, having initially probed each other’s intentions in pretense of indifference, began to openly reveal their desire for the headship, Jaun had abruptly left the Gyeon estate.

At the time, Jaun had already become convinced that behind the deaths of his parents and elder brother — indeed, even that of the former gaju himself — there lurked some hidden conspiracy of which he was unaware.

Until he uncovered it, he had no intention of returning…

But when news came of the daebuin’s grave illness, along with a letter in her own hand, he returned to the clan after two full years.

Reaching the main house, Jaun made his way straight to the daebuin’s residence. The garden paths leading to the women’s quarters (anchae) were just as he remembered them from the day before yesterday.

Without expression, Jaun advanced — until someone stepped in his way.

“What business have you here, you coward? Did you get permission to enter?”

“When the family was in trouble, you didn’t so much as try to help but ran far away — did you think you’d be treated as before?”

They were Gyeon Myeong-han and Gyeon Mok, sons of Gyeon Gak-hyeong. Since childhood they had harbored inferiority toward Jaun, who had outshone them in every respect, and now, uneasy at his sudden return after two years, they had come running at once.

Looking down at the two blocking his path, Jaun spoke with weary disdain.

“Move.”

“What? You little—”

In the few intervening years, Jaun’s height had overtaken theirs, and looking up at him now, they felt an involuntary pressure. The fact that they flinched, however briefly, infuriated Myeong-han. Balling his fist, he lunged forward —

— but then, like a flash of white light, a cold length of metal brushed against the side of his neck.

The thought that Jaun might actually draw a blade within his family’s own house had never occurred to him, and he froze on the spot.

Jaun, pressing the sword’s hilt lightly against Myeong-han, shoved him aside and walked between them.

Only after Jaun had gone did the servants rush to the sprawled Myeong-han and Mok.

“M–my lord! Are you all right?”

“Let go of me!”

Jerking away the arm that tried to help him up, Myeong-han glared furiously after Jaun’s retreating back.

“That bastard Gyeon Jaun, how dare he…!”

Waiting briefly outside the detached quarters where the daebuin was recuperating, Jaun entered when given leave.

Inside, he paused at the sight of the figure seated properly on the bed.

The woman wore a dark azure silk robe bordered with subtle gold embroidery; her white hair was gathered into a knot atop her head; and she smiled with gentle warmth.

The fine lines at her eyes and her greying hair bore the marks of age, yet the healthy flush in her cheeks and the bright gleam in her eyes made it hard to believe she was in critical condition.

“It has been a while, Jaun.”

“I was told you were gravely ill.”

Jaun had vowed not to return to the Gyeon family until he found the mastermind — yet here he was, moved slightly by a sense of debt toward the daebuin, who had seen that his parents were well interred. Unable to ignore the report of her illness, he had answered her letter.

But now, the realization that this had been a ruse made his tone turn cold.

“If false news of your condition has caused others to trouble you, I shall see the sender punished.”

“Don’t be so angry. If not for that, you would have ignored me as always, would you not?”

Smiling enigmatically, the daebuin gestured for him to sit.

As Jaun took the seat opposite her, a maid approached and whispered something to her.

Nodding, the daebuin dismissed everyone from the room, then met Jaun’s gaze.

“There’s not much time to talk. I’ll tell you the reason I summoned you today: Next year, I intend to hold the selection for the gaju. Do you know why I’ve delayed until now?”

“Was it not because the entire family was in mourning?”

“That’s merely an excuse.”

At her words, Jaun raised an eyebrow.

“Are you saying there was another reason?”

“First — because the former head did not designate a successor. Second — because I believe someone in the Gyeon household assassinated him.”

“…”

Jaun stared at her in silence. In the chill between them, the daebuin opened her eyes wide in surprise at the utter lack of disturbance in his face.

“You already knew. Could it be that this is why you left?”

Murmuring in disbelief, her hand trembled as it grasped the tea cup.

“And why does Your Ladyship believe Grandfather was murdered?”

“…He was not one to leave us that way. Though deeply shaken by Gi-wol’s death, he still harbored suspicion about the incident and was determined to catch the culprit.”

This was the first Jaun had heard of it.

To learn that not only he himself, but also the daebuin and, in life, his grandfather, had all doubted the deaths of his parents — that was a surprise indeed.

But conversely, it meant the daebuin had withheld this from him until now. Jaun did not hide the displeasure in his gaze.

“I fail to see why you tell me this only now.”

Shifting uneasily beneath Jaun’s indifferent stare, the daebuin composed herself and went on.

“I am sorry — and ashamed — to say this, but I tried, in my own way, to investigate over the years. Yet not knowing whom in the family to trust, and with the affair so grave, I could not move lightly.”

If even Shinryu, with her exceptional reach for information, had yet to uncover the truth, there was no way a daebuin confined to the women’s quarters could have done so.

He was about to conclude there was nothing more to gain from her when her next words made him doubt his ears.

“I had thought to ask Prince Eunhun of Hwalwon Palace for aid — indeed, that is why I summoned you.”

“…Are you saying you mean to handle the Gyeon family’s affairs with the help of Hwalwon Palace?”

A bitter laugh escaped Jaun.

Setting aside his personal feelings, Hwalwon Palace and Prince Eunhun were, at bottom, people of the imperial house. To seek the intervention of the court in the affairs of one’s clan… Even for one partially estranged, for Jaun — who had lived his life as the proud heir of a great house — it was unimaginable humiliation.

Was it because her natal family, the Gwangdeok Jang clan, was so small they mingled freely with commoners, that she lacked a sense of propriety?

Checking his temper, Jaun answered,

“I would sooner end the Gyeon line with my own hand than bow my head to the court in supplication.”

“Call it pride if you will, but I saw no other way. Yet, seeing you today, it is clear you too have many secrets from me.”

“…My vengeance will be wrought regardless of the family.”

Silently, the daebuin rose and reached deep beneath the bed, drawing out a long packet.

Wrapped in silk, its exterior was firmly sealed.

“I had originally meant to ask you to deliver this to Prince Eunhun — but now, open it yourself. Give me your answer, whether you will aid me or not, afterward.”

Breaking the seal, Jaun looked inside.

Within was a single letter, creased and worn with handling: a secret order directing the deployment of the Gyeon family’s private troops.

His brow furrowed as he read slowly downward — and when his eyes reached the bottom of the page, his hand clenched the paper so hard it almost tore.

It bore the seal of the Shinul family of Mokryeon Palace⁴.

Feeling the blood run cold, he looked at the daebuin.

“This… surely you’re not saying…”

“One of the second or third sons has been in league with Shinul.”

Only then did Jaun understand why she had wished to seek aid from Prince Eunhun.

Notes:

1. So-gaju (소가주) — Literally “lesser head of house,” usually the heir apparent or acting deputy to the main head (gaju) in a Korean noble household.

2. Nangnang (낭랑) — A formal title for an honorable wife of a nobleman, distinct from concubines.

3. Daebuin (대부인) — “Grand Lady”; the highest-ranking matron of a noble household, often the widow of the former gaju.

4. Mokryeon Palace Shinul family (목련궁 신울가) — A powerful house associated with Mokryeon Palace, one of the imperial domain palaces described earlier. The implication is of deep political intrigue involving another major faction.