#060. Side Story 2. A Proposal Without a Matchmaker’s Letter
Baekryeon received a marriage proposal only once in her life.
“Of course you did, you’ve been married once, haven’t you?”
Her daughter laughed brightly at Baekryeon’s words, but Baekryeon did not laugh. Because it wasn’t meant to be funny.
The one who proposed to Baekryeon was not her only spouse.
The one who proposed was the Empire’s one and only sun—her sovereign.
Baekryeon remembered that day vividly. It was about a thousand days before her daughter, Yuhyeon, was born. Back when Jin was still a kingdom, not an empire, and His Majesty was a king, not an emperor.
That day was the eve of Baekryeon’s deployment.
Ahead of the final great war before Jin became an empire, His Majesty had generously provided rare wine and meat to raise the army’s morale.
Even after the banquet ended, he called for her, claiming the wine had run out.
They had shared drinks together before, so Baekryeon followed him obediently to his private chambers.
Their conversation, which began with well-wishing for the upcoming war, soon shifted to politics and concerns about stabilizing the rapidly growing nation’s public sentiment.
“You must take an empress and appoint a crown prince. Only then will the inner court be stable, and the line of succession secured. The country will find peace.”
It was the most obvious suggestion for calming public unrest. But the moment she brought up the empress, Cheongneung scowled and grimaced.
“That again? You really never tire of it.”
He wasn’t wrong. For nearly fifteen years, Baekryeon had advised him at every appropriate moment to choose an empress and appoint a crown prince.
“If Your Majesty heeds my loyal counsel, I shall trouble you no further with it.”
But Cheongneung was even more persistent than she was. For twenty years, he’d heard the same advice from all his ministers and yet still refused to take an empress.
It wasn’t that he had no interest in marriage—he had concubines and children. But the positions of empress and crown prince remained vacant, which Baekryeon could never understand.
Perhaps due to the fast-paced drinking that followed the banquet, Cheongneung, now quite disheveled, asked:
“—Fine. Then pick one. Who do you think is fit to be the empress? Subin? Hwabi? No matter who I choose, there will be complaints. That she lacks character, has no children, her family is unimpressive—people always find something to whine about.”
Baekryeon could not deny it. Unlike her, who simply wished for those roles to be filled, the other officials all had factions and agendas. If the chosen crown prince didn’t align with their interests, they’d find fault and tear him down.
Though she didn’t believe Cheongneung left those positions vacant out of concern for others’ opinions, Baekryeon responded honestly.
“Choose whomever you see fit. I shall serve her with all my heart and strength.”
As Cheongneung said, no matter whom he picked, there would be opposition.
But Baekryeon believed she could quell it. Cheongneung could choose whomever he wanted, and if he did, Baekryeon would support that choice.
Once the conquest of the continent was complete, Cheongneung would become emperor. Who could disparage someone selected by the emperor and supported by his greatest vassal?
But instead of naming someone, Cheongneung merely sighed as if fed up.
“Then why don’t you recommend someone? Who can bring order to the inner court and lead this nation properly in the future?”
Baekryeon hesitated, then poured him another drink. Though he already seemed quite drunk, she didn’t want to spoil the mood.
Normally, whenever she brought up the empress and crown prince, Cheongneung would grow angry and send her away. Even if he was a little drunk, the fact that he was still conversing meant she couldn’t let this chance slip by.
“How could I dare speak on the qualifications of the nation’s mother and heir? I beg you to withdraw your command.”
“Hm.”
Cheongneung downed the drink Baekryeon poured and extended his glass again. She filled it once more.
“Others speak freely, though?”
“That is disloyalty.”
Cheongneung’s eyes widened slightly at her firm answer.
“Ahaha, are you saying all my ministers are disloyal? Is that it?”
Though he meant to imply she was condemning everyone, Baekryeon stood her ground.
“Even if ten people claim a stag is a tiger, it does not become one. Advising Your Majesty to choose an empress and crown prince is loyalty, but declaring who is or isn’t suitable is disloyalty. Please, do not command me to be disloyal.”
She meant it. She believed that, for the country and the king, they needed an empress and crown prince. That’s why she repeatedly gave such counsel.
But who Cheongneung chose was not something a vassal should judge. He had a good eye for people—he wouldn’t choose someone unfit. And even if he did, she would serve that person with all her might.
How could she voice her opinion before even hearing her sovereign’s will? To Baekryeon, everyone else was being disloyal.
Clink. The sound of a glass landing lightly on the table. Some of the wine spilled, leaving a stain. As she watched it, a sigh-like voice followed.
“Then you become empress and appoint the crown prince yourself. That wouldn’t break any rules or be disloyal.”
For a moment, Baekryeon didn’t understand what he meant. When she turned to look, Cheongneung had slumped over, still holding the glass.
His breathing was steady, and his closed eyes beneath his tousled hair made it seem like he had simply fallen asleep from the drink.
But Baekryeon noticed something—the hand gripping the glass, mostly hidden by his sleeve, was unusually pale.
As if he were tense, holding it tightly.
As she stared at his hand, realization slowly dawned.
It was, by all logic, a drunken jest.
At the time, she had already married, given birth, and even lost a child—yet her spouse was still alive and well.
For a king’s partner to not be a first marriage was strange enough—but to marry someone whose spouse still lived? That was beyond absurd. It must have been a drunken joke.
And yet, Baekryeon knew—if she said “yes,” Cheongneung would truly follow through.
Because the hand holding the glass trembled ever so slightly.
Because Cheongneung had fallen silent, as if awaiting her reply.
Baekryeon parted her lips, then closed her eyes, erasing the image of his pale fingertips from her sight. If she kept looking, she felt she might say yes.
After what felt like a long time—but surely wasn’t—she opened her eyes again. Now that his hand was no longer in view, she straightened her clothes and stood.
She picked up the royal robe Cheongneung had cast aside, draped it over him, then stepped back and bowed deeply by the door. She didn’t look at his hidden hand again.
“May Your Majesty preserve your health and enjoy eternal longevity.”
Then she left.
“His Majesty is resting. Do not disturb him,”
she sternly instructed the attendants waiting outside. As she returned home, morning dew clinging to her, Baekryeon sank into thought.
About the possibility.
It was, by common sense, impossible. With plenty of concubines to choose from, to suddenly appoint a woman in her forties, already once married, as empress?
But in terms of symbolism, it was too perfect. Baekryeon was the commander with the greatest military power and came from a lineage historically opposed to the royal family.
There were surely those who feared she might rebel.
To them, a marriage between Baekryeon and Cheongneung would be the perfect reassurance. It would symbolize the union of their factions—and that Cheongneung had secured full control over the military.
And at her age, she likely couldn’t bear more children. It would suggest no disruption to the succession.
All she would need to do is choose one of the king’s existing children to become crown prince.
As Cheongneung had said, it would be improper for a vassal to speak on the crown prince’s appointment—but for an empress, it was her rightful role.
That way, Baekryeon could naturally become the crown prince’s backer and strengthen her political base.
—Yes, Cheongneung might very well choose her as empress for these reasons and present that case to the court.
If only she didn’t have a spouse.
“Sigh…”
Baekryeon calmly sorted her thoughts. If her spouse were to meet an ‘unfortunate accident,’ would she be able to stop this proposal?
Today, Cheongneung proposed under the influence, in private, because Baekryeon had a spouse.
But if she were widowed and he still considered her a candidate, he would speak those words again—this time in broad daylight, before all the world. Asking her to become empress and choose the crown prince herself.
“You’re late.”
Lost in thought, she found herself home before she knew it. Seeing her spouse awake and waiting, she slowly spoke.
“While I’m away at war… please go to my estate.”
Baekryeon had already lost a child once to a “tragic accident.”
She couldn’t bear to see another family member suffer because of her.
The next day, she departed for war as scheduled. Cheongneung personally led her carriage to raise her prestige, and as always, she returned victorious.
With her triumphant return, Cheongneung declared Jin an empire and ascended the throne. During their private meeting following the coronation and celebration, he never mentioned that proposal again.
As though it had never happened.
But Baekryeon knew those words would never disappear. Cheongneung had not forgotten.
And so, at the age of forty-two, she bore an heir late in life.
Because she didn’t want to receive a second proposal.
