Chapter – 18
Is This Your First Time Playing in the Sand?
The hour of sulshi, when night had just fully fallen.
The imperial study, lit faintly by wavering lantern light, was silent.
A eunuch, bent at the waist, presented a plaque inscribed with the night’s destination.
“Tonight, Your Majesty is scheduled to visit the residence of Lady So.”
“Hm.”
“You have not visited her chambers for several days now.”
“Are you lecturing me?”
“Not at all, Your Majesty…”
The eunuch was tiptoeing on the line between life and death.
He had served the Emperor the longest—by luck, he had survived this long.
Whenever the Emperor’s bloodshot eyes gleamed, the eunuch immediately flattened himself to the floor.
“It is all for the sake of producing an heir as swiftly as possible.”
“I detest children.”
The Emperor’s finger drifted lazily above the plaques, not choosing anything.
He only waved his hand through the air, pretending to think.
After all, the concubines did not seek affection.
Their only goal was to secure their positions by bearing a child…
“Like them.”
A slight wrinkle formed between the Emperor’s brows, then vanished.
“Prepare.”
“I shall send word to Lady So at once!”
“Do as you please.”
Relief washed over the eunuch’s face—finally!
Despite his ruthless nature, the Emperor seldom touched women.
The rear palace was overflowing with concubines, yet he only watched them from afar.
He used to say their infighting reminded him too much of the battlefield.
The Emperor threw on his outer robe haphazardly.
The eunuch, lantern in hand, escorted him with great care.
“To Yeo-nyeong Palace.”
“Yeo… Yeo-nyeong Palace, Your Majesty?”
That was not Lady So’s residence.
In fact—no concubine lived in Yeo-nyeong Palace.
It belonged to a ten-year-old princess.
“A moment ago, Your Majesty said—!”
“Send word to Lady So. Tell her to sleep early.”
It’ll help her grow taller, he joked, disappearing with only his most trusted guard in tow.
“Your Majesty!”
“I already had an appointment.”
Left behind, the eunuch stared blankly at the Emperor’s retreating figure.
A hollow laugh escaped him.
“To seek out the Princess at this hour… Tomorrow the sun may rise in the west.”
In forty years of service, he had never seen such a thing.
The prince who had despised his siblings still ignored his own children even after becoming Emperor—
And now this?
“As expected… she truly must be her child.”
Lady Hwan-yeong—once the Emperor’s beloved, but like a mirage, she had faded too quickly.
Somewhere in the darkness, a soft humming floated by.
A man with unusually light steps halted before a small palace.
<Yeo-nyeong Palace>
A-mang’s residence.
“Your Majesty, are you certain about this?”
“She’s ten. What mischief could she possibly do?”
“One can never be sure.”
“You worry too much.”
“…Forgive me.”
At this hour, he and A-mang had arranged a counseling session.
Yeo-nyeong Palace was humble and plain at night; only three or four maids served there.
The Emperor set his sword on the floor and knocked on the sliding door.
“We have been expecting you.”
Nan, A-mang’s attendant, bowed deeply.
She was dressed more finely than usual—clearly she had put effort into her appearance.
The Emperor let out a faint laugh.
So many maids became concubines that such ambition no longer surprised him.
“Where is A-mang? Her father has come, yet she doesn’t greet me?”
“Please, follow me, Your Majesty.”
“Yeo-nyeong Palace seems to have grown bold.”
On any other day, he would’ve drawn his sword already—
or his loyal guard would have placed a blade at Nan’s throat.
But tonight was different.
He had made a promise to A-mang.
‘No violence or threats, no matter what happens! Promise!’
He had humored the tiny thing and agreed—at least until their wager was over.
After that… who knew?
Tonight, Yeo-nyeong Palace felt oddly cold.
Candles flickered along the lengthy corridors.
Nan, holding a purple lantern, never once looked back.
The Emperor—walking alone, having left his guard behind—scanned his surroundings.
“A-mang has prepared quite a lot.”
Anyone else would have been frightened.
Walking through darkness with only a few trembling flames for comfort—
But if she had intended to scare him, she had failed miserably.
The Emperor was not one who feared the dark.
He had endured far too much of it in his lifetime.
“What shall I do with you…”
Should he humor a child’s theatrics?
He pressed a hand to his lips to hide a laugh.
“Please enter.”
Eventually Nan stopped.
A room with its doors wide open.
After delivering him, she withdrew without a sound.
The Emperor paused.
Was Yeo-nyeong Palace always this large?
“If you wished to startle me, you should’ve tried harder.”
Strings of beads hung over the entrance, shielding the interior from view.
He brushed them aside.
A-mang sat at a low table, strangely solemn.
“Welcome, Father.”
“What game is this?”
“Please sit here.”
Her speech was getting shorter?
Instinctively, his hand reached for his waist—
Ah, right. He had left his sword outside.
So that was why.
A faint smirk curved his lips.
“You’re cleverer than you look.”
On the table lay a shallow tray filled with fine sand… and some dirt.
“Did you take this from the palace garden?”
“Shh.”
A-mang pressed a finger to her lips, closing her eyes as if focusing deeply—
though the gesture was clumsy and childlike.
Let’s see how far she takes this.
Resting his chin in his hand, the Emperor watched.
“Do you see the figurines before you?”
“Yes.”
At some point, small carved figures had appeared in front of him—
tiny, delicate pieces like a child’s toys.
“This sand represents a free world.
You may decorate it however you wish with the pieces before you.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
And A-mang waited.
Waited for him to arrange the pieces.
The Emperor overturned the box of figures onto the table.
Petals, leaves, pebbles, miniature people, carved suns and moons—
a child’s whimsical collection.
“How childish.”
The imperial family had long received such things as tribute.
Every royal child had owned some version of these toys.
The Emperor himself, once a prince, had no shortage of them.
“Time is passing. Please begin.”
“The night is long.”
“…I am ten years old, Father.”
Which meant: hurry up. Children must sleep early.
“You do look very tired.”
He stared at the figures he had selected.
Calling this childish play “counseling”—he felt foolish for trusting a ten-year-old.
Still—a promise was a promise.
He would indulge her.
For tonight.
The Emperor would.
He placed the pieces onto the sand.
On the far left, a moon.
Next to it, a man figurine surrounded by other figures—
some looking like worshippers, others like tormentors.
Around them, small natural items filled the space—pinecones, petals.
“Can’t I have a lake?”
“I shall make one for you.”
A-mang rolled up her sleeves, dug out a shallow basin in the center,
and poured in water.
The sand darkened and a small pool shimmered.
A lake.
At first, the Emperor arranged pieces half-heartedly.
But soon—he found himself strangely absorbed.
The dim chamber, the three flickering candles—
they strained the eyes, yet somehow enhanced the scene,
casting the sand and water in an eerie glow.
“Is this enough?”
“You may fill as much as you like, Father.”
“Quite a free world.”
He surrounded the lake with dead twigs, then put aside the remaining pieces.
Taking the cloth A-mang offered, he wiped his hands and examined the tray.
The center around the lake was full of dead things.
The outer edges brimmed with beautiful natural decorations.
But the most striking were the human figures to the left and right.
“And these? Who are they supposed to be?”
“That is what I should be asking you, Father.”
He had answered with nonsense.
The Emperor rested his chin again, eyes fixed on A-mang.
Her large eyes studied the scene up close.
People worshipping someone—
or tormenting him.
Next to them lay a figurine face-down in the sand, right beside the lake, tangled with dead branches.
“So? What do you see?”
“Yes.”
“…What?”
An unexpected reply.
Impossible.
He had simply tossed pieces onto the sand.
There was no way this tiny child could read anything from it.
“I’ve discovered it. Your condition, Father.”
“Very well. Let us hear it. I am most curious.”
A languid smile curved his lips.
When he tilted his head, his black hair fell softly to one side.
The scene in the tray was bizarre—
a stark contrast between the living and dead,
between reverence and violence.
A-mang straightened her posture and clasped her hands.
Her expression turned solemn.
“Are you afraid, Father?”
“What?”
“You cannot put down the past that condemns you.”
“…”
“You wish to flee from it, yet the memories cling to you relentlessly.”
The Emperor seized A-mang’s wrist.
His grip was so tight that it left marks on her delicate skin.
“How did you know? How could you possibly know?!”
A-mang’s lips curved into a smile.
Success.
