Chapter 11
The Hall of Treasured Jade (보옥당, 保玉堂) collapsed in an instant, leaving nothing but emptiness. Once, so many had flocked there to curry favor with its mistress that the threshold had been worn thin, but a king’s affection was no more enduring than the morning dew.
Rumors had said my mother would enter the Central Palace as queen, but when the royal selection was held and a young “Lady Park” was seated there instead, those whispers dispersed like mist after rain. Even so, the only reason my mother was able to endure within the palace was because I—His Majesty’s only son—existed.
Who was my mother, robbed of the Central Palace by a mere girl? She was a woman who had let go of her natal family’s hand, trusting only in the king’s love in order to stand by his side.
But the king had grown old. Whether the queen could bear an heir was something that only time would tell. Thus, the Hall of Treasured Jade was nothing more, nothing less, than a chicken rib—something too tasteless to keep, yet too much a pity to throw away.
For a time, the hours belonged to my mother. If I, though born of a concubine, were made Crown Prince as the only son in the palace, all disputes would come to an end.
But Heaven’s will changes as swiftly as the seasons, never to be trusted. Before long, the cries of a newborn echoed in the Central Palace. None could deny that the young girl had become a true queen, having borne an heir. The Hall of Treasured Jade, once a chicken rib, fell in a flash into the status of a burden.
Until I had just passed seven, I knew nothing of the world’s cruelties. Even now, I remember it clearly. In that brutal palace, how hard must it have been for my mother, all alone, to endure until I remained so ignorant past the age of seven? When I was at last given the new name “Irip” and established as Crown Prince, how rotten must my mother’s insides have already been, though she smiled so brightly?
“Mother!”
The young Irip, spotting the Hall of Treasured Jade from afar, shook off the attendant eunuch’s hand and dashed forward on his small feet.
The eunuch, burdened with the princess Ryeo-hee asleep on his back, could only hurry with short steps, afraid she might wake if he ran too hard.
At Irip’s cry that rang loud enough to shake the palace, Lady Hee-bin came rushing out barefoot, her shoes forgotten. Her young son ran into her skirts and buried himself in her arms.
“Didn’t His Majesty forbid you from calling me ‘Mother’ any longer?”
“I don’t want to stop.”
At the frail warmth burrowing into her embrace, Hee-bin’s body melted. She smiled helplessly, and Irip rubbed his cheek against her hand.
“If His Majesty learns of this, it will be terrible. Quickly, take Princess Ryeo-hee back to your quarters…”
“But His Majesty himself permitted it!”
The corners of Hee-bin’s eyes trembled ever so slightly, though her son, laughing brightly to hide his tears, did not notice.
“His… Majesty did?”
“Yes, Mother! And not just that—he gave Ryeo-hee and me delicious chestnut sweets, and even bestowed medicine upon you himself.”
“Medicine…?”
“Yes! He said fine cloves had come from Hoan-guk, and that it would strengthen your health! But look at Ryeo-hee—after eating the sweets, she’s been asleep ever since.”
Irip glanced at his sister and shook with laughter, but at that moment Hee-bin crumpled where she stood, collapsing to the floor.
“Madam…!”
The chief court lady who had guarded the Hall of Treasured Jade alone hurried forward, grief choking her, to support her mistress.
“Mother, why is this happening? Isn’t it good that His Majesty gave you medicine?”
Irip tried desperately to help her up, but her body swayed and would not rise.
The senior palace matron stepped forward, quietly pushing the boy aside, and presented a small tray. Hee-bin’s trembling fingers lifted the silk cloth that covered it, releasing the pungent smell of the medicine.
“My son, Hwon-ah.”
Irip looked up with round, glassy eyes. Since the day he’d been titled Crown Prince, had she ever called him by his childhood name again? No—never.
“Remember this. I did not drink the medicine you brought.”
Her tone was not tender, but urgent. Irip nodded obediently. Then, before the palace matron could speak, he snatched up the bowl and smashed it to the ground.
The shattering sound woke Ryeo-hee, who wailed. Hee-bin gestured for the eunuch to hand her beloved daughter back into her arms.
“This will all reach His Majesty’s ears.”
The palace matron’s jowls trembled with anger, but Hee-bin only took her children’s hands in hers.
“And if I had drunk it? Then surely my son and daughter would have been allowed to live out their lives in peace.”
“By law, yes. The Crown Prince would remain in the palace, and the Princess would be married off in due course.”
Irip felt his mother’s grip tighten. He looked up at her trembling lips without understanding why.
“You said you ate the chestnut sweets. Perhaps they were connected to the ‘personally bestowed’ medicine, don’t you think?”
“How would I know? It is His Majesty’s will.”
“Mother! Now that I think of it, the sweets smelled faintly bitter, like herbs!”
Hee-bin’s hands shook violently, her breath coming shallow. Cold drops wet Irip’s hand, and looking up, he realized they were his mother’s tears.
The chief court lady let out a broken cry and collapsed to the ground, wailing like a child. Frightened, Irip hid in his mother’s skirts.
“…Leave us.”
At last, Hee-bin forced the words out. The palace matron flung the tray to the eunuch and stalked out, throwing back a final warning as the rusty gates creaked open:
“Her Majesty the Queen will not sit idly by, Hee-bin!”
Hee-bin closed her eyes, quietly weeping, but when she met Irip’s gaze, she smiled with tear-curved eyes.
“Come now, Your Highness, Crown Prince, Princess. Stay in my quarters tonight, and return tomorrow.”
“Truly…?”
What did children know of their mother’s burned-out heart, of her breath like black ash, of tears as dark as soot? They only rejoiced, kicking off their shoes at the threshold, and skipped happily into her chambers.
The children’s laughter, and perhaps their mother’s muffled sobs, drifted long over the walls of the Hall of Treasured Jade.
Though it was summer, night came swiftly. As the sky darkened after the sunset, a single faint candle flickered in the hall.
Hee-bin stroked her children’s sleeping faces, her tears falling onto Irip’s cheek. Startled, she raised her head.
“Madam…”
The faithful court lady watched her mistress with pity, unable to hold back her own tears.
“So. Have you given the antidote to the Prince and Princess?”
“What kind of world is this, where a father puts poison in his own children’s mouths!”
“Enough. Even if I must go, you must live. Forget this, live well, proudly, happily if you can. And… watch over my children.”
“Madam! What are you saying… Where are you going?”
Hee-bin only smiled faintly, her beauty undimmed by sorrow. How had she endured in this palace, after letting go of her family’s hand? The court lady shook her head, shielding the flickering lamp.
Half-asleep, Irip overheard fragments of their hushed conversation, drifting in and out of dreams.
Beside him, his mother’s fan stilled, then slipped from her hand.
“Mother…”
His small hand reached into the empty air, but found nothing.
And again, his hand groped in vain, as his body twisted in restless sleep, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, his thin robe clinging to his skin.
