Chapter 3: The Emperor’s Wrath

Kang-Dae Pov:

The court matters dragged on longer than expected.

Kang-Dae sat upon the golden throne, the heavy silk of his black imperial robes pooling around him, his long hair neatly bound with a silver crown at the top of his head. The ministers bowed low before him, presenting grievances and petty disputes, each one more tiresome than the last.

He listened in silence, his sharp eyes cutting through each speaker like blades.

His face, unreadable. His demeanor, still as a mountain.

But beneath the stillness, impatience stirred.

I should not be here dealing with these fools, he thought coldly.

Tonight should have been spent preparing for the new alliance with House Yi.

Marrying into the Duke’s family would secure another branch of loyalty under the Imperial Banner. That was all this was to him.

A calculated move on a blood-soaked chessboard.

He had little interest in the girl they had promised him.

Hyjung-Hee.

A name without meaning.

A face he barely recalled, seen only briefly from afar.

He valued loyalty and strength.

Whether she possessed either remained to be seen.

A minor noble was currently droning on about a border dispute when the great hall’s side doors burst open without warning.

The Prime Minister flinched visibly.

Several ministers gasped aloud.

Only Kang-Dae remained perfectly still, though a flicker of irritation crossed his mind.

To interrupt court proceedings without permission...someone’s head would roll for this.

A guard in full black armor stormed across the polished floor, falling to one knee before the Emperor’s dais.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty!" the guard cried, his forehead pressed hard to the marble.

"But urgent news...grave news...the Princess—"

Kang-Dae’s body went still, his fingers flexing once on the gilded armrest.

He didn’t need to hear another word.

The shift in the guard’s voice.

The naked fear in the court’s silence.

Something had happened to Eunji.

The room around him faded into meaningless shadows.

"Speak," Kang-Dae ordered, his voice low and deadly.

The guard swallowed hard, his helmet trembling slightly as he lifted his head just enough to report.

"The Princess was attacked, Your Majesty. Within House Yi’s estate."

Gasps echoed through the court like ripples across still water.

"She was found injured, disheveled, but alive. She was able to reach her guards."

A ringing filled Kang-Dae’s ears, louder than the court's whispers, louder than the crackling of the great torches.

He rose slowly, the heavy sleeves of his robe falling like storm clouds around him.

"Where is she now?" he demanded.

"At the palace infirmary, Sire. Under the care of the royal physicians. Her wounds are...superficial."

Superficial.

The word did not calm the fire now roaring through Kang-Dae’s blood.

It only fanned it higher.

Someone had dared touch her.

Someone had dared harm the only family he truly cherished—the fragile light that kept the colder parts of his soul from consuming him entirely.

He turned to the Prime Minister sharply.

"Summon the full Council," Kang-Dae said.

"Seal the estate of House Yi. No one enters. No one leaves."

Dae-Daeun bowed deeply, his face carefully blank, but a glint—something too quick to catch fully—flashed in his eyes.

Kang-Dae did not trust him.

Kang-Dae trusted almost no one.

His voice dropped to a growl.

"And find me the one responsible. Now."

The ministers bowed hastily, scattering like frightened birds.

Kang-Dae descended the dais himself, black boots striking hard against the marble floor, each step a promise of ruin.

He did not wait for ceremony.

He did not wait for permission.

He would see Eunji with his own eyes.

He would hear the truth from her own lips.

And whoever dared raise a hand against her—be it noble or servant, woman or man, he would rip their world apart piece by piece.

As he strode down the gilded corridors toward the palace infirmary, the memories pressed against him.

Eunji as a small child, following him around the gardens, tugging at his sleeve for stories.

Eunji laughing, slipping flowers into his armor when he prepared for battle.

Eunji crying, clutching him the night their mother died, her tiny hands fisting in his robes, as if he alone could keep the world from crumbling.

She was all he had left of those softer days.

He had crushed enemies, buried traitors, razed entire clans for lesser offenses.

For her, for her smile, he had tempered his iron heart into something barely resembling mercy.

And now someone had dared—dared—to mar that light.

The physician bowed low as Kang-Dae entered the private wing.

"Your Majesty. The Princess rests within. She has been sedated. Her injuries, while not life-threatening, are..."

"I will see her," Kang-Dae cut him off.

He pushed open the door himself.

Inside, the room was dim and heavy with the scent of medicinal herbs.

Eunji lay upon the bed, her hair unpinned, dark smudges under her eyes, a faint bruise along her temple.

Seeing her so still, so broken, a rage unlike anything he had ever known seared through Kang-Dae’s chest.

He crossed the room silently and knelt beside her.

His hand hovered over her bruised forehead, clenching into a tight, trembling fist.

"You will tell me who did this," he whispered, so low it was almost a growl.

"And when you do..."

He closed his eyes briefly, battling the surge of bloodlust threatening to overtake him.

"...I will destroy them."

No law would protect the guilty.

No title would shield them.

No lies would save them.

The Emperor's wrath had been awakened.

And soon, the empire itself would tremble.

I stood at the window of the infirmary chamber for a long time, watching the faint rise and fall of Eunji’s breathing.

Her fragile form barely disturbed the heavy embroidered blankets covering her.

Outside, the palace grounds stirred in nervous silence.

Even the wind seemed to know that the world had shifted.

There would be no peace until I had an answer.

Until I had a name.

Until I had blood to match it.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

I did not move.

"Enter," I said quietly.

The Prime Minister, Dae-Daeun, slipped inside with all the subtlety of a shadow.

His hands were folded neatly inside his sleeves, his face a mask of solemn concern.

"Sire," he said, bowing deeply. "We have gathered testimony and...evidence."

"Already," I said.

A statement, not a question.

He hesitated only a fraction of a heartbeat—enough.

I saw the careful glint in his eyes.

The calculation.

I turned fully toward him, my arms crossed behind my back, forcing him to meet my gaze.

"Speak," I ordered.

Dae-Daeun bowed again, slower this time.

"Multiple servants present at House Yi reported seeing unusual behavior before the attack. Suspicious movements near the Princess’s quarters. Strange mutterings. Fearful gestures."

I said nothing.

My stare alone was enough to make lesser men tremble.

He continued.

"The evidence, too, points toward one individual. A young noblewoman residing within the estate. Ill, often secluded. A temper said to be hidden behind a...delicate facade."

He unfolded a small lacquered box in his hands, producing a strip of bloodied cloth and a sealed letter.

I did not glance at them.

I did not need to.

Objects meant nothing.

Only truth mattered.

"And this woman’s name?" I asked, my voice low, sharp as a drawn blade.

Dae-Daeun hesitated again.

"Lady Chin-sun of House Yi."

The name struck no chord in my memory.

It fell flat, like a stone into a bottomless well.

"Who is she to me?" I asked.

My voice remained calm, but inside, the fury coiled tighter.

Dae-Daeun bowed his head.

"She is the Duke’s natural daughter. The sickly elder sister of your intended betrothed, Hyjung-Hee."

I narrowed my eyes.

"I have never seen her," I said flatly.

It was not a question.

It was a fact.

I would remember if I had.

"Few have, Sire," Dae-Daeun said smoothly. "She was never properly presented at court. Hidden away, kept from public scrutiny due to her...condition."

Hidden.

Ill.

Silent.

It sounded convenient.

It sounded...planted.

I said nothing, allowing the heavy silence to stretch between us.

Letting him squirm.

Letting him wonder if I would rip his lies from his throat here and now.

Finally, I turned away from him, back toward the window, the night pressing cold against the glass.

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"Confined to her chambers under guard, awaiting Your Majesty’s judgment," he answered.

"No resistance. No protest."

Of course not.

If she were sickly, if she were silent, what protest could she offer?

Something about this twisted my gut in an unfamiliar way.

A cold unease settled over my shoulders.

Still...

Eunji’s bruised face burned in my mind.

If this Lady Chin-sun was guilty...

If she had raised a hand against my sister...

I would deal with her myself.

No matter how weak she appeared.

But if she was not...

I clenched my fists behind my back, the silk of my sleeves tightening around my arms.

I would not allow an innocent to be crushed for convenience.

I was not my father.

I was not a fool led by whispers and false tears.

"Prepare the court," I said.

"My judgment will be given at first light."

Dae-Daeun bowed low, his hands trembling slightly.

"As you command, Your Majesty."

He withdrew like a spider retreating into the shadows.

Alone again, I stared out over the darkened gardens.

Lady Chin-sun.

A name without a face.

A shadow without a voice.

And yet soon, our fates would be bound together by chains neither of us had chosen.

The storm was already gathering.

And I would stand at its heart.

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