Yunxi had been waiting at the reception for nearly three hours, yet there was still no sign that the doctor would meet him. The young man had woken up before dawn that day, determined not to repeat yesterday's mistake. The evening before, when he had come, a boy had appeared instead—polite, but dismissive. He had introduced himself as Bailu, the doctor's attendant, and had informed Yunxi that the doctor was far too busy to see him without an appointment.
So, Yunxi had swallowed his pride and made one. Today was supposed to be different. Today, the doctor was supposed to meet him. He had hurried from home early, not wanting to give that proud, arrogant man any reason to refuse him again.
But now… here he was. Sitting on the same cold wooden bench, staring at the same door, ignored as if he were invisible.
Yunxi clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. Humiliation burned inside him like fire. His eyes lifted toward the staircase leading to the upper floor, to the office door where Bailu had gone in and out several times. That was the doctor's office. That was where the man had hidden himself away while Yunxi sat like a beggar outside.
A bitter laugh almost escaped his throat. How pathetic—coming every day only to be treated like this.
In one swift movement, Yunxi stood. His bench scraped loudly against the floor, drawing startled glances from the people around him. Ignoring them, he stormed toward the staircase. His boots struck hard against the polished floor, his pace quick and unrelenting.
"Hey—you can't go there!" one of the attendants barked.
"Mister, you haven't been summoned. Please, sir—"
Yunxi ignored their words, his jaw tight with fury.
The men moved to block him, their arms outstretched like barriers of stone. "If you insist, we will throw you out," one warned.
"Out of my way!" Yunxi snapped, his voice echoing through the hall. He shoved them both, but they were stronger, easily forcing him back.
For a moment, his chest heaved, his fists tightening around the fabric of his sleeves. Rage coiled within him, urging him to lash out, to break something—anything. The room seemed to shrink around him as whispers began to spread.
"What's wrong with that man?"
"Who is he? His face looks familiar."
"Crazy, making a scene in a hospital."
Children whimpered and clung to their parents, shrinking away from him as though he were dangerous. The accusing stares of the crowd pierced his skin, heavier than chains.
Yunxi's lips trembled. What was he doing? Losing control here, of all places. He turned back toward the guards blocking him. They stiffened instantly under his glare, raising their guard as if expecting him to strike.
But Yunxi's eyes did not linger on them. Instead, they shifted toward the office door. Still closed. Cold and unwelcoming. Then—through the window beside it—he caught the faintest glimpse of movement. Someone had hidden, ducking out of sight, as if desperate not to be seen.
Yunxi's heart clenched. He knew who it was.
His hand moved to the sachet tied at his waist. For a moment, he simply held it, staring down at the object as if it carried the weight of his pride, his dignity, and his foolish persistence. Slowly, he stepped forward and extended it to one of the guards.
"I… I'm sorry for the trouble I caused earlier," he murmured, forcing the words out past the lump in his throat. His gaze lowered, his voice softening. "Please. Give this to him. I… should go."
The guards exchanged wary looks but accepted the sachet.
And Yunxi—without looking back—turned and walked away. The eyes of the crowd followed him, some sharp with irritation, others wide with curiosity. Each step felt heavy, yet he forced himself forward, his back straight, though his chest ached with humiliation.
Outside, the cool night air met him like a slap. He reached his horse, untying the reins with trembling fingers. For a moment, he paused, his gaze drawn upward, toward the second floor. Toward the office where the doctor might even now be watching him leave.
His teeth ground together. "...Nim si!! You dushbug!" he spat bitterly. The insult left his lips sharp and raw, but it did nothing to ease the burning in his chest.
With a sharp tug of the reins, he mounted his horse and rode off into the night, his figure swallowed quickly by the shadows.
---
Elsewhere, under the pale silver light of the moon, the Emperor walked with hurried steps. His sighs, repeated again and again, broke the stillness of the evening. Stars shimmered faintly above, and the cool breeze rustled the leaves, but none of it calmed the storm brewing in his chest.
Beside him, Eunuch Song walked in silence, his eyes lowered respectfully. The Emperor's restlessness was impossible to ignore, but Song did not dare to question it—until at last, his curiosity and concern overcame him.
"Your Majesty," he said quietly, his voice carefully measured, "is something troubling you?"
The Emperor gave no reply. His steps did not falter, but his jaw tightened as if he had not heard a single word.
Song glanced behind him and gestured discreetly, signaling for the other attendants to slow their pace and give the two of them privacy. Then, with his voice lowered further, he tried again.
"Your Majesty, I—"
"You… ah." The Emperor turned his head sharply, his voice breaking but unfinished, as if restraining himself from speaking what truly weighed on his mind. His eyes—cold, piercing—fell on Song, and the old eunuch immediately fell silent.
The irritation on the Emperor's face was undeniable.
They walked on, silence stretching like a blade between them, until at last the Emperor stopped in his tracks. He turned suddenly, his voice firm, his gaze unyielding.
"You will write an order," he declared, "to Kim Jihwan, his family, and the people. Tell them that I absolve them of every crime—every single sin committed by that damned minister. For now."
Song's eyes widened, his breath catching. "Your Majesty…"
But Han Ji continued, his tone growing colder. "Tell them also that I sever all ties between the two Kim brothers. The minister's brother will receive the request he asked for—but he must never return to the capital. And as for Kim Jihwan—he is stripped of his position as Minister of Finance until further notice."
His fist clenched tightly at his side, his words sharp and final. "Tomorrow morning, call for a court assembly. Read this order before everyone. And now… stop following me. All of you."
With that, he turned and strode off into the night, his figure retreating like a shadow swallowed by the darkness.
"Your Majesty!" Song called after him, his voice wavering. "Have a good night…"
But the words felt empty. The Emperor's thoughts were a maze impossible to unravel, and Song's heart tightened with unease. Where had this sudden decree come from? What storm was brewing in his sovereign's heart?