HLCOB C60

Chapter 60

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After Lady He’s elevation to Empress, Luoyang lay quiet for a time.

The court was split on a knife’s edge; a single misplaced word might cause the Emperor to overturn the balance of power entirely.

Then, into that stillness, a memorial was presented.

“…The Censor-in-Chief?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

At Zhang Yang’s report, the Emperor unfolded Wang Yun’s petition. Its contents were simple:

With the death of the Colonel-Director of Retainers, many corrupt dealings within the Imperial Guards had been exposed. Such disorder in the army meant its discipline was in shambles. Therefore, the vacant post of Commander of the Guards must be filled swiftly, to restore order in the ranks.

Zhang Yang swallowed hard. He could not fathom how the Emperor would respond.

‘That wretch Im Jaheon—has he gone mad?!’

He could not understand why Jaheon had urged Wang Yun into such a move. This was, in effect, a plea to make Cao Cao Commander of the Guards. Everyone knew Cao Cao already controlled the palace infantry; who would dare accept the position, save him?

If Cao Cao was promoted, and gained full command of the Imperial Guards, Zhang Yang’s own influence within the palace would surely wane—even with Lady He as Empress.

Grinding his teeth in rising dread, Zhang Yang waited.

“….”

The Emperor, skimming the memorial, suddenly chuckled.

“It seems Huaseo is angry with Us.”

Zhang Yang, ignorant that the Emperor was plotting to bring Choseon into the palace, was startled by the reaction.

“…?”

But the Emperor gave his order as if it were nothing.

“Deliver this to Colonel Cao. Tell him that as of tomorrow, he shall be Commander of the Guards.”

Zhang Yang bowed deeply, struggling to mask his dismay, and accepted the scroll.

“Yes… yes, Your Majesty.”

His hands shook as he received it. From this moment, he could no longer stop Cao Cao from purging Zhang Yang’s men within the palace. As Commander of the Guards, Cao Cao had that authority by right.

‘Damn it… why would Im Jaheon submit such a memorial?!’

Yet he could not cast Jaheon aside. His only paths to survival now lay with Jaheon and Lady He.

“….”

As Zhang Yang left the imperial study, his steps slowed. Something gnawed at him.

In Luoyang, his footholds were vanishing one by one. The situation was twisting so that without grasping Jaheon’s and Lady He’s hands, he could not survive.

‘Could it be… His Majesty intended this all along?’

The Emperor could not be unaware of his alliance with Jaheon.

‘Did He from the first desire that Jaheon and I should join hands?’

If so, then the matter was different.

Zhang Yang had always thought he played within the Emperor’s palm, but still believed himself to know the sovereign well. He had chosen, of his own will, to aid the young Emperor.

But the thought struck him—

‘What if even that choice was His Majesty’s design?’

If every step he had taken had in truth been the Emperor’s will, then even Zhang Yang’s death could be decreed at the Emperor’s whim. And when that time came, he would die as though by his own intent.

For the first time, true terror seized him, and his whole body shook like a leaf in the wind.

‘It cannot be…’

His grip tightened on the memorial. But what recourse was there? Who could defy the edict of the Son of Heaven who ruled this realm and all under heaven?

‘Unless the Emperor himself be replaced…!’

The blasphemous thought rose sudden in his mind.

And as soon as it did, the terror that had crushed him fell away, replaced by an eerie calm. If the Emperor were changed, all would be resolved.

“Eunuch Zhang.”

It was then the Emperor called him.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Zhang Yang turned back, bowing low. The Emperor asked, smiling faintly,

“How long has Yuan Yirang served as Assistant Minister?”

“About… about a month, Your Majesty.”

“Then let Yuan be appointed Colonel-Director of Retainers.”

As though He had deliberately given Zhang Yang time to entertain his treasonous thoughts.

Thump—

Zhang Yang’s heart plummeted.

The Emperor’s eyes, void of light, fell upon him. Eyes that pierced him through, laying bare his very thoughts.

“Now, is it not time We had someone to check Colonel Cao?”

Zhang Yang’s complexion turned deathly pale. He felt utterly exposed. Yet mingled with the fear was a surge of betrayal—after serving the Emperor faithfully these ten years.

He buried the feeling deep, and forced out an answer, his voice thin, almost unmanly.

“…As You command, Your Majesty.”

To bring Choseon into the palace was to flout the law. Even the Emperor could not easily trample upon four centuries of precedent. To do so, he would first need to silence his ministers. And the surest way to do that was to set them against one another.

Thus, he could not grant all power to a single faction—at least, not yet.

“His Majesty has issued an edict.”

In the end, the Emperor was compelled to use Yuan. As a scion of the Yŏnam Yuan clan, Yuan was uniquely suited. The Emperor desired that the Cao faction, the Qingliu, and the Yŏnam Yuans each remain strong enough to check the others.

“Luoyang is in turmoil, the realm in disorder…”

So it was that, on the first day of the new year, beneath falling snow, Yuan Shao was appointed Colonel-Director of Retainers.

“…Therefore, We hereby appoint Yuan as Colonel-Director of Retainers.”

The advancement he had long coveted.

For the first time, Yuan dared to hope his clan might finally recognize him.

– Benzhuo. Have I not told you to remember your station?

– Remember where you were born.

But nothing had changed.

To the Yŏnam Yuan clan, he was still but a bastard, a pawn whose blood was convenient, nothing more. Until the legitimate Yuan Shu returned, he was only a placeholder.

What stoked Yuan’s fury further was the look in his servant’s eyes—once filled with resentment, now glimmering with hope.

When had that slave begun to look at him so? What the servant wanted was not a son, but a master who would one day grant freedom.

Nothing had changed at all.

“Are you satisfied?”

Then a clear, melodious voice broke across the snow-filled courtyard of the palace.

“…?”

Lifting his eyes, Yuan saw before him Jaheon, standing beneath the falling snow with an umbrella in hand.

“Surely Lord Yuan must be content at last.”

Jaheon’s words were smooth, but beneath them lay parting.

“Strictly speaking, our bargain ends here, does it not?”

Yuan gave a bitter laugh.

“So, you wished me to regret parting from you?”

Jaheon’s smile was untroubled.

“Is that not so?”

He extended a hand, as if to brush away the snow.

“You hoped recognition from your clan would change everything, did you not?”

The snow melted at his touch, like Yuan’s fragile hopes.

“But now that nothing has changed, Lord Yuan must find me hard to let go.”

Yuan’s expression hardened. His fist clenched.

“Was it not I who planted those vain hopes in you?”

It was a disquieting sensation.

Even his own mother had never sought to truly know him. But Jaheon looked straight through him. To be known—completely—was unbearable.

“…Lord Im.”

Unable to contain himself, Yuan’s voice strained with anger.

“What is it you seek from me?!”

He reached to seize Jaheon by the pale throat—

– Lord Yuan.

But Jaheon’s golden gaze, unflinching, met his.

Just as it had on that day—

– I only desire that Lord Yuan should one day take the Yŏnam Yuan clan into his hands.

And Yuan understood.

“….”

Why Jaheon had placed him in this office.

Jaheon had never lied. Never sought to test him. From the first, he had declared his aim was not Yuan himself. It was Yuan’s clan.

The strength drained from Yuan’s grasp.

And Jaheon’s lips curved in triumph.

“Lord Yuan.”

So many labor under an illusion—that a higher station brings a better life. Yet often, a higher seat brings only misery, revealing truths unseen from below.

And Jaheon judged Yuan would not endure such truths—bound as he was by the chains of his birth.

“Will you not come to me instead?”

For Yuan, time was short.

In the true history, Yuan Shao had endured five bitter years after the deaths of his foster mother and grandmother. Those years had given him space to devise a way beyond the limits of his birth.

But in this altered history, no such time remained. He had neither the means nor the leisure to find a way forward.

“You know it already.”

Jaheon would simply reveal it to him.

The path Yuan Shao had once discovered for himself.

If one is bound by the chains of status, then overturn the order itself.

To overturn that order, the dark of night must pass, and a new dawn arise.

For a new sun to ascend.

“They will never change.”

Jaheon’s golden eyes—the color permitted only to the Emperor—bore into Yuan’s. And he spoke the words that none could deny.

“Unless a new Heaven is opened.”

The overthrow of the dynasty. The Mandate of Heaven transferred.

Revolution.