#120. Side Story 4: The Untold History
The day was clear, and the air was cool.
Yuhyeon, suppressing a memory that always surfaced on bright days like this, quietly savored the aroma of the tea.
“How is it?”
“The scent is pleasant.”
She answered honestly to the emperor’s inquiry. The emperor let out a low laugh.
For someone who could barely hold his own body upright, his voice still retained some strength.
“That’s a relief.”
The cup in front of him remained untouched. It would probably be cleared away once it had cooled. Yuhyeon thought so.
Everyone knew that the emperor did not have much time left. At most, perhaps a week.
As the pillar sustaining the empire, the emperor’s remaining time had to be spent with utmost care.
Yet despite that, the emperor had carved out this precious time to summon a mere general like Yuhyeon.
Yuhyeon did not fool herself into thinking it was because of her abilities.
The emperor’s choice to spend this time on her was not because of her, but because of her mother—Baekryeon, the loyal minister of the Jin Empire, killed by the emperor himself.
“Sitting there like that, you truly resemble your mother.”
It was a natural observation. Everything about Yuhyeon had been shaped by Baekryeon.
“Now that my days are short, I keep recalling the past.”
“Please do not speak so. You must rise again.”
Yuhyeon knew it was impossible, but she dared not say otherwise—it would have been disrespectful.
So she gave a neutral reply, and the emperor did not take her words seriously.
“I was too harsh with Baekryeon.”
Yuhyeon knew exactly how to respond in moments like this:
“Not at all, Your Majesty. How could Heaven ever err? Your mother would not have thought so either. Please do not let needless worry harm your health.”
But the words stuck in her throat. Not because Yuhyeon truly doubted them, but because…
If it were only that, she could have thrown out a half-hearted lie as she had just done about the emperor’s recovery.
Yuhyeon also believed it, and the emperor had confirmed that her mother had believed it too.
The emperor had opened Baekryeon’s coffin to see her body. He knew the cause of her death.
He knew that he had caused Baekryeon to die.
“Yuhyeon.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Burn all the letters I sent to Baekryeon. Leave none behind.”
Yuhyeon opened her mouth but closed it again.
“That is why I summoned you. You may return now.”
And so she did.
Yuhyeon returned home and obeyed the emperor’s command. Leaving behind these “imperial reprimands” would only disadvantage her.
The fact that she had not burned them earlier was precisely because they were the emperor’s gifts.
Now that she had permission to burn them, she wasted no time.
Yuhyeon gathered all the letters Baekryeon had carefully arranged and threw them into the fire.
The silk coated with gold burned, giving off a terrible smell, but Yuhyeon did not step back. She waited for the flames to die down completely.
The doubts and anger she had buried with Baekryeon flared up with the fire.
What had her mother truly done wrong?
Did a lifetime of loyal service merit such a death?
Was it right for no one to take responsibility for that death?
Baekryeon might have held the answer, but Yuhyeon did not.
In truth, that was the root of all the problem. Yuhyeon could not accept Baekryeon’s death.
The man on the throne hunched his body slightly.
The gold-coated throne was lukewarm from his body, but he had no luxury to find that unpleasant.
Footsteps echoed through the silent hall, startling him.
“Your Majesty.”
The voice that broke the silence was the one he had been waiting for most.
The man—the emperor of the Jin Empire—straightened the body he had hastily crammed onto the throne.
“Oh! General! You’ve finally returned!”
The woman appeared, quickly approaching the throne and kneeling on one knee.
“I came immediately upon hearing the news. Are you alright?”
A week ago, the emperor had been attacked in his private chambers.
Thanks to his guards, he had survived, but the fact that an assault had occurred inside the palace—meant to be the safest place—shocked him deeply.
“Ah… there was a breach in the guards. I cannot fathom where that rat got in. I trust no one but you now. General, please do not return north—stay here.”
He knew all too well that unlike his predecessor, he could not gain the full trust of his subordinates.
The former emperor had an extraordinary eye for people and had never chosen poorly whom to trust. He always let go of the hand he grasped first.
But he could not do the same. He did not know how to make others loyal, nor whom to trust.
It seemed as if everyone wanted to stab him in the back.
So he chose to trust the one the former emperor had trusted most—Baekryeon. A person who had never wavered in loyalty, no matter the treatment.
Second in command of the empire. If her daughter, Yuhyeon, displayed the same loyalty, she could protect him as well.
That was why, when the attack occurred, he had summoned Yuhyeon—who was not even in the capital—to protect the heart of the empire.
“Calm yourself, Your Majesty.”
The woman gently brushed the back of the man’s hand, holding her sleeve around it.
“Yes, if you command it, I will remain here. I will reassess the palace security and locate where that rat infiltrated. Leave everything to me. For Your Majesty, there is nothing I cannot do.”
The touch on his hand was warm. Her tone was sharp, soldierly, yet her voice was gentle.
Her gaze met his kindly. Ah… indeed, he could trust her. The emperor exhaled in relief.
“Please, esteemed one, rest easy and do not trouble yourself.”
He obeyed her words, granting her full authority as the next commanding general, following in Baekryeon’s footsteps.
He believed she would solve all the empire’s difficult problems.
And Yuhyeon never betrayed his trust until her death.
On the brightest full moon of the month, the great hall, bathed in moonlight, was bright enough without lamps.
“Wow, to have the commanding general, harder to meet than the emperor himself, grant me an audience… it is an honor for my family.”
Raising his cup to catch the moonlight, the man grinned. The woman responded with a smile as she inhaled the aroma.
“You are exaggerating. You know I would always make time for your request.”
Indeed. The man always took pride in being within the boundaries she set, where she strictly separated public and private matters.
After emptying his cup, he refilled both their cups. A faint scent of chrysanthemums rose from the liquor.
“So… did the ever-busy commanding general arrange this solely for friendship?”
After exchanging pleasantries and a few words about inconsequential matters and the incompetent individuals in comparison to them,
Only when the bottle was emptied did the man gently probe her true intent.
It was no secret that the emperor relied heavily on her.
She clung to him as if he were her parent, desperate and sincere.
Rumors spread that the emperor had assigned her a pavilion and had asked her to stay within the palace. No one found this surprising.
From the man’s perspective, the emperor would have even offered her the position of empress if it meant keeping her by his side.
So when she came down to meet him privately, leaving the emperor behind, there had to be a reason.
Yuhyeon toyed with her cup silently, uncharacteristically quiet.
Perhaps she intended a rebellion? For a man who had long despised the incompetent emperor, it was a tantalizing thought.
“Less than a year remains, I hear.”
Was it because he was imagining such a thing? Or because it was a thought he had never considered?
The man did not immediately understand what Yuhyeon meant—a rare occurrence for him.
“What?”
A long sigh, a brief pause. Then Yuhyeon spoke again.
“The illness grows. The doctor says no treatment will help. Less than a year remains. I came here today to tell you… to give you time to prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” he did not ask. Instead, he said:
“And you?”
A hopeless illness. Less than a year to live. Surely, it would be excruciating.
Yet she showed no sign of it, sitting before him calmly.
Who else knew of this? No one, he wagered even his estate.
“I will continue, as always, to fulfill my role as the empire’s most loyal servant.”
A serene smile touched Yuhyeon’s face—a smile she never showed to anyone else. He had always felt proud to be the only one to see it.
But now it was not a joyful smile.
He pressed her:
“Even now, in this state?”
All others hailed Yuhyeon as the epitome of inherited loyalty. The emperor trusted her more than his own blood.
But seeing her hidden face, knowing her true thoughts, he understood the truth.
Yuhyeon hated this empire. She despised the emperor. She bore no love for a country that devoured her mother.
And he had long known that she would eventually rise up.
Being in control of the empire’s military, she would not need a grand rebellion.
Simply walking in and ordering the emperor to abdicate would suffice. Yuhyeon had even been permitted to carry a sword inside the palace.
But now, with less than a year to live, she would neither recover nor overthrow the empire? She would live a life of self-restraint as always, then pass quietly?
He could not accept it.
“Pungwoon.”
Yuhyeon quietly spoke his name. Not knowing how many times she might call it again, he fell silent.
“The Jin Empire is, to me, nothing less than my mother’s legacy.”
This statement alone could be considered treason—treating the empire as the possession of a single subject.
Yet since it was Yuhyeon speaking and Pungwoon listening, she had no fear of leakage, and he had no intention of telling anyone.
“Therefore, I will not destroy this country with my own hands.”
Her hand, slightly drier than memory, covered his.
Unlike her pale hand, the palm was rough—the hand of a warrior who had gripped a sword since infancy.
“I only ask this of you.”
At that moment, Pungwoon realized he had been chosen as the executor of Yuhyeon’s final wishes.
After her death, he would ensure that no one else could enjoy the inheritance Baekryeon had left her—by thoroughly dismantling the empire if necessary.
For her, with no husband or children, he was the only one she could entrust. The most special person.
Yet Pungwoon did not feel joy at this realization.
Still, he knew he would carry out her wishes. She was special to him, just as he was special to her.
At least, he would be capable of shattering this empire alone.
“…You are a cruel person. Do you know that?”
“Perhaps, I have been too prudent.”
Yuhyeon smiled faintly, as if embarrassed. Even with less than a year to live, she appeared composed and untroubled.
