Chapter 137

“Why do you look at me like that? You told me to treat you as a friend while you’re staying here.”

Jipyeong asked as he poured the wine, his composed face shameless to the core.

“You’ve really lost your sense of fear, haven’t you?”

“I merely followed orders to the letter.”

He shrugged, lifting one shoulder and letting it drop again before filling the cups to the brim. True to the preference of the two who favored strong liquor over grain wine, the white porcelain cups swayed with clear liquor.

Haban let out a scoff of disbelief. It seemed that while pretending to act kindly toward Dori, that fellow’s audacity had grown as well.

He considered throwing in a sharp remark, but found it bothersome and instead turned his head away with a look of irritation. Dori was hesitating uncertainly behind the imperial guards.

Feeding one’s wife and children to their fill with one’s own hands was a man’s pride. If that was true for any common man, how could it be any different for an emperor?

In fact, Dori’s craving for sweet potatoes had been going on for quite some time. Once, while half-asleep, he had muttered with a little smack of his lips, and upon listening closely, Haban heard him say that in winter, it was roasted sweet potatoes and dried persimmons he longed for. Even earlier today, from the moment the guards outside mentioned roasting sweet potatoes, he had been restless.

But when Haban actually served him sujeonggwa¹ with dried persimmons—something he had supposedly craved even in his sleep—he barely ate a few bites before turning his eyes toward the smell of roasting meat.

It felt as if the neighbor’s rogue had made advances toward one’s own beautiful wife and succeeded in swaying her. Haban’s resentment wasn’t toward Dori, but toward Jipyeong.

“Do you perhaps have some dissatisfaction with your head still being attached to your neck?”

“Perish the thought.”

“A man can be so narrow-minded.”

At that, it was Jipyeong who now felt wronged.

Not long ago, he had discovered—without his own knowledge—that a marriage proposal had been quietly discussed between himself and a princess of the Jin² Kingdom. No wonder Jin had been strangely slow to act, despite sending their princess to a faraway empire.

Even Geumhu knew about it. So, could that be the reason Geumhu had insisted on marrying first?

Jipyeong felt slighted. He even felt a twinge of betrayal.

And yet… he couldn’t understand why the fact that Geumhu was marrying weighed heavier on his heart than the news of his own marriage proposal. His mind was tangled, and his heart restless.

Perhaps that was why he so often intruded on Haban and Dori’s peaceful moments.

Haban, who had lost Dori to the scent of meat, and Jipyeong, who had lost his friend to some unknown woman, ended up sharing a drink.

Haban raised his cup to wet his throat. Jipyeong also drained his lightly filled cup.

“…Actually, it’s about Moran,” Jipyeong said.

Setting the two empty cups side by side, he poured again, his voice quieter this time. He reported that, while searching for Yungak, they had discovered individuals believed to be part of Moran, but Yungak himself had yet to be found.

Clearing out one stronghold didn’t mean it was over. Still, they had expected their enemies to lie low for a while—not move so soon.

Watching Dori’s back from where he sat, Haban raised a hand to halt any further words. Jipyeong understood and closed his mouth.

A short silence passed between them, while from Dori’s side, bursts of laughter erupted.

As time passed, the roasted sweet potatoes lost their warmth and hardened on the low table, and the dried persimmons floating in the sujeonggwa spun in circles before growing soggy and sinking.

Still, they would have to return to the imperial palace soon. The thought began to weigh on Jipyeong.

“Will it be all right? This is someone who used to live freely outside, after all.”

“He’ll have to adjust now.”

“…Your Majesty.”

Jipyeong hesitated. He couldn’t outright say it was impossible, and it was suffocating.

“There’s nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

The warning was cold, as if to say—do not cross the line.

Jipyeong suddenly felt the wine rush to his head.

So, His Majesty truly intended to seat that person in the position of empress. Once they returned to the imperial palace, it was certain there would be an uproar.

Never in the empire’s history had a man become empress. Moreover, though the emperor might cherish him, he was a beastman³ of unknown origin.

‘Absolutely not! Not in a million years! Do you not realize who the only remaining bloodline of the imperial family is? Whether male, fox, or whatever else, that doesn’t matter! Without someone to continue the line, no woman or man is of use—do you understand me?’

Jipyeong recalled Geumhu’s emphatic warning—words spoken the moment the white fox had revealed himself in human form and, upon leaving the room, had been immediately grabbed by Geumhu.

Could it be that Geumhu had already sensed Haban’s deepening obsession back then?

While it was good that all spies within the palace had been rooted out, remembering how the disappearance of the white fox had once thrown the palace into chaos still made Jipyeong’s stomach knot.

‘But still…’

Haban’s slow, deliberate swirl of the wine in his cup betrayed something—his gaze, fixed intently on the campfire, was like that of a predator locked on its prey.

‘When he’s like that, what skill could I possibly have to stop him?’

Resigned, Jipyeong tipped back a cup filled to the brim. He could almost hear the phantom sound of Geumhu shouting at the top of his lungs in the palace, but that would be a problem for another day.

One bottle of wine was quickly emptied. Jipyeong told a eunuch to simply bring the entire drinking spread, and, as if prepared in advance, steaming hot side dishes were laid out along with a wine jar so large it had to be carried with both hands.

The pace of pouring slowed somewhat.

“Stop. It’s not like it will run out.”

“…”

Haban paused mid-sip. Even someone as oblivious as Jipyeong could see the jealousy written plainly on his face.

Of course, anyone could tell. All of his attention was focused over there.

Haban eventually chuckled and looked toward the campfire, where Dori sat with the guards. At first, he had been awkward, hesitant to approach, but now he sat among them as naturally as he had in his fox form.

“That spot must be where the tastiest bits are.”

Jipyeong muttered this softly. Just then, a guard placed the finest cut of thick meat on Dori’s plate.

Dori speared the piece with a skewer and began eating, chewing slowly, then licking the grease from his lips before exhaling in satisfaction. The guards bustled even more at the sight.

For some reason, watching that made Haban’s chest feel hot.

“Your Highness, please have this—it’s the best piece.”

Dori quickly offered a plate of golden-brown, lean meat without any grease.

“No, no. This cut here is much tastier.”

Another guard cut off a piece with the crispy skin still attached, perfectly sized for a single bite.

“Hey! That’s for rough fellows like us to eat!”

“If it tastes good, what’s the problem?”

Their voices were loud and gruff, as though they were arguing.

Dori, thinking they were fighting, craned his neck nervously, but after that, the guards busied themselves with piling more meat onto his plate. Soon, his plate was heaped high even before he could finish what he had.

‘…Huh?’

Suddenly, a chill ran down his back. The guards seemed to feel it too, for they all turned their heads at once.

The only ones sitting on the raised platform were Haban and Jipyeong.

‘Guess I was just being paranoid again.’

Dori licked his lips. Since he’d turned to look anyway, he waved at Haban, inviting him to eat together. But Haban only gestured for him to keep eating.

‘Not to his taste? Haban’s really picky, after all.’

Dori tilted his head, then popped another piece of meat into his mouth. Even such an ordinary gesture made the guards clap and cheer.

…Those guys, seriously.

Haban gripped his cup so tightly it seemed it might shatter. The excuse of “serving him meat” brought them far too close. Perhaps sensing his glare, the guards began to subtly put some distance between themselves and Dori again.

Since guards would have to be assigned to him in the future, Haban had deliberately arranged for them to sit together—yet now, he hated seeing it.

Jipyeong added,

“They’re all loyal to Your Majesty. They’d follow orders if commanded, but you know it’s not the same as serving someone out of genuine devotion.”

For that reason, among them were shadow assassins disguised in plain clothes, since Dori feared black uniforms.

“…”

Though the words were true, they still irked Haban. He set down his empty cup and rubbed his temples.

“Still, His Highness is truly innocent,” Jipyeong remarked.

When the guards had let out a chorus of “oohs” just because Dori put three pieces of meat into his mouth at once, his face had bloomed with laughter.

The white fox who had been abandoned by his parents and driven out of his birthplace was vulnerable to kindness and goodwill. A thick, sticky jealousy rose in Haban’s chest.

“Dori…”

“Let it be. He’s enjoying himself. Don’t you know a man’s jealousy is unsightly?”

For a moment, Jipyeong brazenly cut off the emperor’s words.

“Your tongue is long today.”

“It grows longer with every letter I receive daily.”

Fine—just for today.

It was nice to see Dori smiling so brightly, but it was clear he wouldn’t tolerate it a second time. Haban tossed back the drink Jipyeong had poured, trying to cool the heat in his gut.

Before long, the mountain of meat was gone, and the satisfied guards began exercising.

Squeezed into their circle, Dori looked up at the night sky. Stars twinkled overhead. He wondered if this house was the only place shining in the darkness.

“Losers will have to climb to the mountaintop by morning!”

What had started as an arm-wrestling match escalated into sparring. Two guards, stripped to the waist, circled each other warily.

Sluurp.

In the meantime, having returned from seeing Haban, Dori sipped fruit juice through a straw. Though he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, he felt as light as if tipsy.

“Ah!”

When one man suddenly made the first strike, Dori was so startled he let out a cry before he realized it.

Cheers erupted, deafening, with shouts of encouragement that seemed directed at no one in particular. The sheer noise was overwhelming, and Dori mouthed the straw in awe.

“Your Highness.”

“Mm?”

He turned toward the voice, but the guard beside him wasn’t looking at him. Wondering if someone else had spoken, Dori glanced around, but the guard leaned in to murmur quietly,

“If you do that, His Majesty will notice. Pretend you’re looking forward.”

…Ah.

Dori quickly faced front again.

“Actually, you have some ash on your face, Your Highness. I apologize for not saying sooner—His Majesty mentioned it earlier.”

‘M-my face… what?’

“About here.”

Still looking ahead, the guard indicated the spot on his own face. Dori checked the place with his fingers and found a smudge of soot.

‘…Haban!’

How foolish must he have looked, grinning away with a dirty face!

Biting down on the straw, Dori set his drink aside and quietly withdrew to the back. Nearby was a pile of ash scraped together. He plunged both hands into it.

“What mischief are you up to now?”

Even cooled ash could still hold embers, and Haban—who had been watching from the platform—strode over and pulled the crouching Dori to his feet.

Now!

Dori clapped his soot-blackened palms against Haban’s face. The guards who had been in on it from the moment he stepped back—pretending not to notice—turned away to hide their laughter.

Haban, however, had seen through his intent immediately and clicked his tongue.

“Prepare water for washing.”

Haban’s hand remained gripping Dori’s arm as he led him toward the bathhouse.

Having filled his belly that night with three large roasted sweet potatoes, two cups of goat’s milk, and generous helpings of meat, Dori fell into a deep sleep.

And yet… perhaps because of that dangerous little game with fire—

Dori had a dream.

¹ Sujeonggwa: A traditional Korean cinnamon punch, often served cold, typically with dried persimmons floating in it.

² Jin Kingdom: A fictional or historical-inspired kingdom in the novel’s setting; context suggests a foreign nation with diplomatic ties to the empire.

³ Beastman: In fantasy settings, a humanoid character with animal traits—here referring to Dori, who was once a white fox.