The King kept his word. The following morning, he took Min-jun into town. They wore the clothing of low nobles, with little ornamentation. How long had it been since they were last able to walk side by side like this, with no guards or servants tailing the two of them? Not since they’d returned from Wolgwang City. No one stared at them as they passed. No one bowed. Min-jun glanced up at the King from under his wide-brimmed hat. He cut an appealing figure in his dark blue hanbok, the black beads of his hat swaying as they walked.
“Is something wrong?” the King asked. They had hardly spoken since they’d left the Palace. A night’s sleep had hardly quenched Min-jun’s anger and the King knew not to overstep any more boundaries than he already had. Still, it did not stop the King from trying to reach out to him.
“No,” Min-jun replied, looking down at his feet. His shoes were cream and gold, to match his hanbok. Min-jun fiddles with the tassel hanging from his belt. He had nothing to snap at him for, as the King had done as Min-jun had wished, so it left Min-jun in the awkward state of an attempt to be civil. “How far is it, still?”
“We’ve only just entered the city,” the King said. A smile slipped onto his face, teasing Min-jun. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”
Min-jun gave him a sharp glare, and the King clears his throat. Too soon. “Not too far now. We’ll pass this next group of hanok and his will be just around the corner.”
There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Min-jun crossed his arms over his chest. “So. Why’d he leave in the first place?”
The King clasped his hands behind his back, looking up at the sky wistfully. “He wanted to live the rest of his life free of the trials of the palace.”
“And?”
The King kept his expression notably stoic, but Min-jun could see the ripples of emotion in it. Another secret, no doubt. “He’d been loyal to my father. He left because he didn’t want to serve the man who took his place.”
“So it’s true then?” Min-jun asked. “You killed –”
The King put a finger to his lips, and Min-jun’s eyes were instantly drawn to them. “Not here, my love.”
“Call me by my name, won’t you?” Min-jun asked.
“If that’s what you want,” the King replied, and Min-jun stared up at him in surprise. It was rare for the King to heed such petty requests. “Jun-a.”
“My full name.”
“Hae Min-jun.”
“Tch.”
“Min-jun, then,” the King said, giving him a smile. The first sincere one Min-jun had seen all day. The King smiled so often that a frown seemed awfully out of place on his face. “Just Min-jun.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Ktlr fzmtjcuf kjr ufaalcu ragjcufg jcv ragjcufg. “Lww.”
“Tbe rtbeiv vb atf rjwf,” atf Blcu rjlv. “Jjii wf ys ws cjwf, atja lr. Ca ifjra ecali kf’gf yjmx lc atf Ujijmf.”
Zlc-pec’r pjk vgbqqfv. Lf kjr raeccfv. Lbk mbeiv tf jrx rbwfatlcu ilxf atja bo tlw? “Tbe’gf ralii jybnf wf lc rajaer, P mbeivc’a qbrrlyis mjii sbe ys sbeg cjwf.”
The King glanced around the busy road. Men in straw hats passed them, pulling barrows behind them. A group of women sang as they walked along the edge of the dirt path, waving to the two of them with cheerful eyes. The women giggled as they passed, chatting about how handsome they were and theorizing about their marital status. It probably didn’t cross their minds that the King and Min-jun were, in fact, a married couple.
“Our statuses don’t mean much out here,” the King assured him. “It would seem odd if the two of us act so formally with one another, especially when we look to be of the same station.”
“But –”
“Min-jun.” The King took his hand, smiling all the while. Min-jun bit his lip. His name sounded like a note in a song on the King’s lips.
Min-jun glanced away, turning his attention to the tall grasses around them. The dawn painted the fields gold. The wind carried the flutter of birds’ wings. And between the two of them, there seemed to be a temporary peace as the masks they both wore, that of a King and his consort, fell away. Min-jun sucked in a breath of crisp autumn air.
“Ch – Cheol.” The name rolled off his tongue, sticky like sap or honey, leaving him stumbling over the syllable. “Cheol.”
The King’s eyes sparkled with glee and Min-jun sighed. He was too easy to please sometimes.
“Your Majesty!” The voice of an older man drew their attention away from each other. Min-jun felt the King’s hand rest on the small of his back, a protective gesture.
The old man, who seemed weathered from days out in the field, ran toward them. His hands were covered in dirt, and his clothes were just as sullied.
“I’m in disguise, Chief Baek,” the King said. “Do keep your voice down.”
“Oh yes, my mistake.” The man rubbed the back of his head, laughing a bit.
Chief Baek. Min-jun’s eyes went wide at the sight of the Chief of the Investigation Bureau. Never in a million years would he have expected a man of such high status to be living such a modest life. Out in the middle of the field, with only a small hanok with a thatched roof and wide open fields to keep him company.
“Please, come inside,” Commander Baek said. “Warm yourselves up. It is growing colder by the day. Your Maj– you must take care of your health.”
His . . . health? Min-jun glanced up at the King. Violet eyes met his and Min-jun turned away, glaring at the yellowing fields. He didn’t care. Not one bit.
“And who is this?” Commander Baek asked as he led them to the hanok.
“I am Hae Min-jun,” Min-jun said. “I am . . . well –”
“My consort,” the King finished for him.
Commander Baek only smiled, his expression downcast. “I see.”
A flicker of sorrow crossed the King’s face and Min-jun wanted to pry the meaning of it out of his puzzling mind, but he could not, not with the Chief right there.
“Hae Min-jun,” Chief Baek repeated. “What a beautiful name. It suits a handsome young man like yourself.”
“Thank you.”
They sit down around a small, round, wooden table. The wood had an ashen pallor to it, much like everything in the dimly lit hanok. Chief Baek set down three cups and put the kettle over a growing fire, the only source of warmth in the house. Min-jun stayed arm-to-arm with the King, their hands just a hair’s breadth apart.
“Let us not beat around the bush,” Chief Baek said, folding his hands together on the table. “What would you like to know?”
As expected of a former Chief of the Investigation Bureau! This was what all investigators should aspire to be.
The King took out the report and placed it on the table between them. “I suppose you recall the incidences at the beginning of my reign.”
“We were worked to the bone trying to catch those miscreants,” said Chief Baek. Needless to say, Min-jun did not take kindly to his parents being called miscreants, but he held his tongue in hopes that the man would offer something useful.
“Do you remember anything strange from that time?” the King asked, turning to the page where the sentence of Min-jun’s parents was written down and recorded forevermore. “Particularly about these two prisoners.”
Prisoners. Not loving parents, not a renowned investigator, not a scholar, not two people caught in a game much crueler than they’d expected. Prisoners. Miscreants. Criminals. Min-jun knew they had to refer to them as such, otherwise, the Chief would put the pieces together, but it tugged on his heart to hear them spoken about in that manner.
The King’s fingers pried his fist open. He rubbed circles into Min-jun’s palm, and Min-jun squeezed back. Part of him appreciated the gesture.
Chief Baek rubbed his chin as he stared down at the paper in front of him. “Hmmm, indeed. Quite interesting.”
“What is it?” Min-jun said. Demanded, really. The Chief raised a brow at that but proceeded to answer his question.
“I might be misremembering. It was so long ago, and there were so many prisoners being sentenced then, but . . .” The Chief raised the report to eye level. “There was something peculiar with these two.”
Just say it already! Min-jun pursed his lips.
As if sensing his impatience, the Chief obliged.
“The King had sentenced them twice if I recall correctly,” said Chief Baek. “But he was never one to change his mind on these matters.”
“What were the sentences?”
Chief Baek rubbed his chin again. “Hmm, what was it? He had planned to let them off with a few months of physical labor, so they could reflect on their actions against the throne. Said that they could prove useful to us later on.” Chief Baek crossed his arms. “Too lenient if you ask me. Those scoundrels burned down crops and homes of good people.”
“And the second one?” the King asked. They both knew what it was. The King had never had a doubt in his mind that it was the case. That he had murdered Min-jun’s parents. But there was a prior sentence. And Min-jun had a knack for holding onto things. Hope, hatred, love, anything he could grab hold of.
“They were sentenced to death, of course,” Chief Baek said. “As they ought to be. You made the right decision, Your Majesty.”
Min-jun sprung to his feet, almost thoughtlessly. The right decision! A decision that cost Min-jun his parents, his life, Su-jin’s health, everything that should’ve been theirs . . . all because of a single command. He clenched his jaw. The King’s eyes remained on him, willing him to stay calm. A decision that tore us all to pieces.
“Thank you for your assistance,” he managed to say. “We will take our leave now.”
The King offered a more appropriate farewell, and then followed Min-jun outside into the cold. Min-jun shivered as he stepped into the frost-bitten land, and the King acted quickly, placing his jacket around Min-jun’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” the King murmured, as they reached the main road again. “It must’ve been difficult for you to listen to such slander.”
“All the more reason to find out the truth,” Min-jun said. “Their names have been dragged through the mud long enough now.”
“Perhaps we should take a moment’s rest, then,” the King said, pushing a loose strand of her back behind Min-jun’s ear. “Let’s pay a visit to the market.”
Min-jun met his gaze and warmth filled him. For once, he allowed himself to feel it. Two sentences. Two orders. Was it you who gave the second one . . . or someone else? The King probably didn’t want to even consider the possibility. But Min-jun wouldn’t let it go. It remained a possibility until they confirmed it wasn’t.
With their hands intertwined, Min-jun offered the King a small smile. “Let’s do that, then.”
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, please leave a comment down below! Things are unraveling quickly.
Feels like this guy is hiding something
I agree – considering why he left, I don’t think they should blindly accept anything he tells either of them.
😃 what makes you say that?
Thank you for the update author!!! ❤️❤️
thank you for commenting!
Go Min jun uncover the truth!
minjun is about to put his detective hat back on heheh
It appears that Min-jun’s warming up in the process of investigating, like it’s drawing out poison with every new answer.
nothing like a good investigation to improve one’s mood