Chapter 12
A line of tension furrowed across Argana’s brow.
“Turregen Bi, you say?”
Tirsalan seemed unwilling to speak further, but just hearing the name “Turregen” was enough for Argana to imagine what must have happened to Empress Sorkate.
Although most of the Khan’s children were born of different mothers, they were all required to refer to any consort, regardless of whether she was their birth mother, as “Mother.”
Typically, the term “Mo” (Mother) was combined with the woman’s formal title—so for a concubine (Bi), it became “Mobi,” and for an empress, “Mohu.”
The only exception was the Khan’s first wife, who, by implicit understanding, was treated as the main consort. Those not born of her were forbidden to address her informally and instead had to call her “Katun” or “Lady Main Consort” unless granted special permission.
Turregen was not only older than Sorkate but had also become a consort much earlier. Yet, despite that, she remained a mere “Bi,” while Sorkate held the title of Empress—a fact she never ceased to resent.
Though all were consorts, the ranks of Bi, Empress, and Main Consort were clearly distinct. But Turregen Bi cared nothing for such formalities.
She especially directed her overbearing temper toward Sorkate, who was like a niece or youngest sister to her in age. Whenever she was in a foul mood, she would find Sorkate to vent her frustrations.
“Sorkate Mohu is far too indulgent of Turregen Bi’s arrogance.”
Argana was aware her words might hurt Tirsalan, but she had to say them.
From the Khan down to the lowliest servant, Argana believed everyone must remember and uphold their proper place.
No matter how young the Fourth Empress Sorkate was, she still outranked Turregen Bi.
Tirsalan, disheartened, didn’t touch the tea or sweets brought by the maids and murmured,
“Mother says she hates conflict. And when Turregen Bi… when Mobi gets angry, her heart races and she can’t even speak properly. Last time, she even cried.”
“She cried? Crying only gives Turregen more pleasure.”
Tirsalan noticed his sister didn’t call Turregen “Mobi” like he did but didn’t point it out. It was the most defiant stance a powerless child—forced to hide or flee whenever his mother was unjustly scolded—could take.
Argana pitied her gentle, kind brother who had inherited their mother’s temperament.
She wished he could be a bit bolder and more assertive…
‘Well, that’s not something I can change.’
“Don’t just sit there—have some lotus rice cakes, ‘Tiltil.’”
Tirsalan pouted.
“I’m not a kid anymore. Don’t call me Tiltil.”
“You’re younger than me, so no matter how old you get, you’ll always be a kid to me. And I’m your one and only sister, remember? That gives me the right to call my cute little brother ‘Tiltil’ whenever I please.”
“That’s so unfair.”
Despite his protest, Tirsalan seemed cheered up. He picked up one of the rice cakes Argana offered and took a bite.
Argana smiled as she watched his chubby cheeks puff out while chewing.
‘Tiltil’ wasn’t his official childhood name, but more of a nickname. Just as Argana was affectionately called ‘Wihwi,’ Sorkate and Argana would sometimes tease him by calling him ‘Tiltil.’
“You’re the one who came up with that name, you know. And now you say you don’t like it?”
When Argana teased him, Tirsalan, mid-bite, cried out in protest.
“That was when I was a baby! I couldn’t even say my name properly back then!”
Tirsalan had been a late talker. Even saying his own name had taken a long time.
He struggled to pronounce “Tirsalan,” often saying “Tilsalan” instead.
When others around him called him “Tir,” he tried to mimic them. But in front of foreign envoys, he ended up blurting out, “Til… Tilimnya!”
He wasn’t even three years old at the time, and being the youngest, the envoys and even the Khan laughed it off. But thinking back, it had been a chilling incident.
A royal child of the Khan had made an absurd mistake in front of foreign diplomats.
“You were lucky you were still a toddler. Otherwise, you’d have been in big trouble.”
“That’s why I told you not to tease me! Ugh, I want to forget that so badly, but I can’t! Why is that, sister? I forget what my teacher taught me just a few days ago, but I can’t forget that!”
“Well, that’s just how it is.”
Tirsalan pouted again, more stubbornly this time.
“They said you wouldn’t understand if I talked to you about this stuff, and they were right. You remember everything after learning it once, and you even guess what you’ll learn next!”
“Ridiculous. Who told you that?”
“Brother Ayur.”
“He’s lying. Just teasing our cute little Tiltil, that’s all.”
“Don’t call me Tiltil!”
Argana burst out laughing.
And suddenly, like a mist creeping in, a memory from her previous life resurfaced—heavy and unmistakably vivid.
‘Back then, around this time, Tirsalan was the only one who could make me laugh. Kartak had already left…’
Her smile slowly faded.
The cruel truth she had already lived through pierced straight through her heart.
‘After Tirsalan died, I never laughed out loud again.’
Tirsalan had died at the tender age of thirteen. He drowned.
People whispered in confusion—he had always been a good swimmer. And wasn’t that the stream within the palace grounds?
The vast imperial palace of the Dar Empire contained lakes, streams, and even waterfalls.
Children would often sneak off to play in the water, away from the eyes of their parents. The Khan’s children were no different.
‘That stream was Tirsalan’s favorite. Though the water was a bit deep for him, nothing should’ve gone wrong there. You can’t just drown there by accident.’
Argana, who had cherished her little brother, had been certain even then that his death wasn’t accidental.
She’d worked tirelessly to uncover the truth, all while caring for Empress Sorkate, who had nearly lost her mind from grief. But in the end, the case was buried in darkness.
The devastated Sorkate took her own life when her maid dozed off for a moment.
The Khan, upon hearing the news, collapsed from the shock and suffered severe headaches for a long time. With that, everything quietly faded away.
‘There was definitely something… Someone killed Tirsalan. Who? Why? Who would gain from killing him?’
Then suddenly, a familiar face flashed across Argana’s mind like lightning.
Who would want this innocent, naïve child dead?
Who would feel satisfied only once this ordinary boy—who held neither ambition nor overwhelming talent—was erased?
‘Yoshmut… and Turregen Bi.’
Her throat went dry.
Even back then, she had suspected Yoshmut.
She had once caught him and a gang of thugs bullying Tirsalan—and had beaten them all half to death for it.
Could he have held a grudge?
Of course. But as Kartak once said, Yoshmut was petty and cowardly.
He knew better than to go after Argana—so he went after Tirsalan instead.
‘It’s possible. Entirely possible. More than enough motive.’
Lost in thought, Argana was startled when a small sweet was suddenly pushed in front of her.
The abruptness of it made her flinch, and Tirsalan also recoiled in surprise.
“Sister, are you okay? Are you sick?”
