DHRTB 02

Chapter 2…. The Name of the Crown Prince’s Heir

Eight years ago.

“Your Highness, Crown Prince’s Heir, I really don’t think this is—”

“Shhh!”

The young Changhui cut off his cousin Donghyeon’s words and glanced around.

He felt a little guilty for covering the mouth of Donghyeon, who was three years older than him, but there was no other choice. His voice was far too loud.

“Brother, just trust me and follow along. We’ve come all the way to Jeongeup—shouldn’t we see the scenery you can’t find in the capital?”

“But, Your Highness, I—”

“There they are!”

The moment Donghyeon opened his mouth, court attendants seemed to appear from nowhere, swarming toward where Changhui and Donghyeon were hiding.

Among them was Lady-in-waiting Ryu, the Crown Prince’s Heir’s chief nanny.

Changhui quickly grabbed Prince Nowon’s hand and dashed toward a small hole in the back wall of the villa.

“Ah!”
“B-brother!”

Sure enough, the frail Prince Nowon tripped over his own feet after only a few steps.

Changhui immediately turned back to help him up.

“I suppose I’m not cut out to see such scenery.”

“How can you say that! Please, get up and run with me.”

“Your Highness should go alone. You must see more, and farther, on my behalf.”

“……”

Changhui counted the attendants rapidly closing in behind Donghyeon.

Three palace maids including Lady Ryu, and two eunuchs. If they were caught, they would be dragged back without question.

“Brother, I’ll see it for you. I promise!”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Leaving the fallen Donghyeon behind, Changhui sprinted forward.

“Oh, Your Highnessss!”

Lady Ryu’s desperate cry rang out, but the young Changhui kept running, heedless of where he was going.

He only wanted to savor this rare bit of freedom while it lasted.

Crown Prince’s Heir Yi Changhui.

His birth was hailed as the greatest blessing in the short history of Joseon. The legitimate successor, carrying the line from King, to Crown Prince, to Crown Prince’s Heir.

The reigning King, who had ascended as the third son, had long been plagued by concerns over succession. All those worries vanished the moment Changhui was born.

The legitimacy of the royal bloodline at the dawn of the dynasty—Changhui’s very existence had secured it.

“Your Highness! Mount Jeongeup is deep, there may be tigers there. You must return before sunset. Please, I beg you!”

Lady Ryu’s voice, pleading as she called after his retreating figure, never reached him.

To her, he looked just like any other excited eight-year-old boy. Still, her eyes shone with worry.

“He is a bright one. Lady Ryu, you mustn’t trouble yourself so much.”

Prince Nowon, with the help of a eunuch, had gotten to his feet and spoke gently to her.

Though only three years older than Changhui, as the King’s first grandchild, he carried himself with surprising maturity.

“I fear when the hunt ends, someone may try to pay him homage.”

“Ah, the homage ceremony!”

“Yes, even though we are not in Hanyang, is this not the first royal event since His Highness was formally invested with his title?”

At Lady Ryu’s sharp insight, her expression grew darker still. Donghyeon looked uneasy and lowered his gaze.

“I did not realize your concern. Had I known, I would have tried harder to stop His Highness.”

“Your thoughtfulness humbles me, Prince Nowon.”

“What if I did this—”

Donghyeon rose on tiptoe and whispered to Lady Ryu. She received his words with both hands, as if accepting a formal gift.

“Since custom dictates that homage is paid by bowing down, if anyone insists on offering it, I shall sit in his stead and receive it.”

“Prince Nowon… would that be proper?”

“The best outcome is that no one attempts it at all. If someone does, then His Highness will already have returned. Only if neither happens should we resort to this.”

When he lowered himself back down, Donghyeon smiled brightly—the innocent smile of an eleven-year-old child.

With no better solution at hand, Lady Ryu could only bow her head with a bitter smile.

“Agishi!” (Young Mistress!)

A girl was striding up the mountain path, another slightly older girl panting as she hurried after her.

“Young Mistress Heesoo! Slow down! Even if you get ahead, your father will not take you to the hunt!”

“What?”

Heesoo spun around, her young eyes blazing with anger and hurt.

Song Heesoo. The nine-year-old daughter of Song Hangyu, livestock steward of the Royal Stables.

Her father was already famous in Jeongeup for doting on his children. To honor his late wife, he had never remarried and raised his son and daughter alone.

But though he adored them, he was not a man who granted every wish. Today was no different.

“No matter what, he will not bring you to the hunt. Of course, it is Young Master Heegun who must go.”

“Of course? What’s so ‘of course’ about it? Just because he’s the eldest son?”

“In Joseon, there are many things that are ‘of course.’ Even His Majesty has brought both the Crown Prince and the Crown Prince’s Heir here to Jeongeup. And besides, it is dangerous.”

“That’s your problem, Jaya. You can’t even say a kind lie.”

Heesoo glared at her maid, Jaya.

The whole village was abuzz: the King himself, his son, and his grandson, three royals in all, had come down for the royal hunt.

But her father’s declaration that only her brother would accompany him left Heesoo sulking.

“I only speak truth, because it is you, Young Mistress.”

Jaya soothed her gently.

Thanks to her father’s position in the royal stables, Heesoo had grown up roaming Borim Temple as if it were her own home.

Oftentimes, she even climbed faster than her father himself—like today. And Jaya was always by her side, in place of a mother or sister.

Though absurd for a lowly official like Song Hangyu to keep a servant, he had taken Jaya in out of pity when she was abandoned at Borim Temple. For both her, and his motherless, sisterless daughter.

So the two grew up like sisters, and Jaya understood every corner of Heesoo’s heart.

“He is not casting you aside. Your brother is frail. Perhaps if he sees a broader world, he will be inspired to study for the state exams one day.”

“It’s so annoying! Always ‘son, son’!”

Jaya wiped away the sweat—or were they tears?—from Heesoo’s face, and stroked her hair.

At that, Heesoo finally burst into tears.

“I hate it when they say daughter this, son that. I really hate it! I’ll become a daughter who can do everything a son can do!”

As Heesoo sobbed, Jaya held her close. Only three years older, but Jaya was already like an adult.

“Ah, you know better than anyone that it isn’t favoritism.”

Jaya rocked her gently, listening to her sniffles.

They both knew why.

Her father’s extra care for her brother was because the boy had been sickly since birth. Too timid even to play outside, much less run like other boys.

Still, knowing the reason didn’t erase the hurt. Heesoo was, after all, only a nine-year-old girl.

“Wowww!”

Escaping the villa, Changhui wandered freely.

It was the first time in his life he had ever walked without attendants trailing behind.

Drunk on the rare taste of freedom, he climbed higher and higher as the wind carried him.

When the dense forest abruptly ended, he realized he had reached mid-mountain.

Though he had scrambled up several rocky ledges, the reward was worth it—a sweeping plain, so different from Hanyang, stretched before his eyes.

“How wonderful if Brother Nowon could see this too.”

As he gazed at the view, he suddenly thought of the cousin he had left behind and felt a pang of guilt.

But soon, like any child, he lost himself again in the novelty of the sight.

The sky, once bright blue, had deepened with streaks of red. The sinking sun painted the horizon crimson.

As it sank further, blue gave way to black, where the sky met the plains in a rare and beautiful spectacle.

Mount Jeongeup is deep, there may be tigers. You must return before sunset. Please!

Lady Ryu’s warning rang in his ears like a blow.

Wait—sunset had already fallen.

“A tiger?!”

He remembered once seeing a tiger’s pelt at his uncle Prince Chiyang’s residence. It had been several times larger than his uncle himself.

Large enough to swallow a man whole—and Changhui, barely eight, would be no more than a mouthful.

“A tiger won’t know I’m the Crown Prince’s Heir!”

Panicked, Changhui turned and ran back the way he thought he’d come.

But the forest was already darkening fast. He couldn’t remember the path at all.

Strange… I should have been down the mountain by now…

Sweat trickled down his back as he forced himself to look calm, scanning the trees.

Everything looked the same.

He was lost. The Crown Prince’s Heir of Joseon, lost in the woods!

Then it happened.

Poke.

Something sharp jabbed his shoulder.

Convinced his fear had come true, Changhui froze on the spot.

He dared not turn around.

No—his feet simply wouldn’t move.