"Your Majesty, I do not wish to stay behind. I could be of help with the friends you are escorting back."
Meiylin spoke softly, holding Han Ji's hand in hers. Her delicate fingers tightened around him, her eyes blinking up at him with determination before she continued, "Dear Emperor, I am not as weak as I may appear. I can accompany you, and I can warm your nights on your journey."
Her voice trembled only slightly, but her words were deliberate. Then she added, with a daring sweetness, "It would be a pleasure for your friends to be received not only by the Emperor but also by the future Empress." She looked up at him when she spoke those final words, watching carefully for his reaction.
But Han Ji gave none. His face remained unreadable, though his silence carried a weight that made her heart tighten. After a long moment, he withdrew his hand from hers and walked toward his desk. Sitting down with measured grace, he looked at her—serious, distant, as if searching for the right words before he could speak.
Meiylin did not move an inch, except to turn her head slightly toward him, waiting with reddened eyes. She had not cried, but her gaze shimmered as though the tears were held back by sheer will.
At last, the Emperor broke the silence.
"My grandfather sent a letter a month ago."
He did not look at her when he spoke. Instead, he turned to the Eunuch standing at the far corner of the room. With a slight nod, the Eunuch understood and left, taking with him all the other servants. The chamber grew hushed as the heavy doors closed behind them.
Han Ji motioned to Meiylin to come closer. She hesitated—her heart thudding in dread—before she rose and slowly walked to his side. She sat beside him, her back straight, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Though she tried to remain composed, her eyes shone red, a sign of the fear pressing inside her chest. She knew something was about to be revealed—something she had long avoided, yet feared to know.
---
Rumors had already traveled across the high courts, whispered among nobles and officials. The news of a princess from the Brother Kingdom had spread quietly, yet widely enough for many of high state to know. And Meiylin had heard these rumors, though never fully.
She had only been told fragments: that this princess belonged to the distant kingdom that had sealed a bond of brotherhood with their empire many years ago. She had heard whispers that the girl once shared a deep connection with Han Ji, that many had even hoped—shipped, as some dared to call it—that she would one day marry him. But beyond such fragments, little was spoken openly. Those who seemed to know more remained silent, as though the subject was too heavy to tread upon.
Meiylin, however, knew about the letters—the letters from Han Ji's grandfather. Letters that came even when they lived in the northern lands. Letters that Han Ji read but never spoke of. She had tried, many times, to discover what they contained, but he had guarded them with the same solemnity with which he guarded his own heart.
Now, sitting by his side, she feared she was about to learn the truth she had so long dreaded.
Her mind went back to the past—long ago, when he had once called her to his side, just as he had done today. He had promised her then, with all the seriousness a young prince could carry, that she would be his Empress. He had even leaned down and kissed her forehead, a gesture so intimate and sacred that it had been burned into her memory.
They had been children, yet princes and princesses did not speak words they could not keep. From birth, they were trained to know the weight of promises, especially promises of marriage. Meiylin had been eight years old, and Han Ji three years her senior—old enough to understand what his words meant.
Even as they grew older, and Han Ji was sent away to study in lands far from home, she had never forgotten.
He had chosen the North, the land of merchants and warriors, a place where wealth and cunning defined power. He could have chosen Niang Kingdom, a renowned seat of knowledge, but he refused. He had refused so stubbornly that he went without food for two full days until his wish was granted.
And from then on, she had been with him—always. Through the darkest of nights, when grief had swallowed him whole.
When his parents died, one after the other, she was the one who stayed by his side. When nightmares haunted him after his mother's death, she comforted him. When the court whispered that he had gone mad, when the late Emperor threatened to strip him of his title if he did not bury the past, Meiylin stood by him.
The late Emperor had mocked him, saying he behaved like a little girl, clinging to grief. Han Ji's persistence had cost him his title as Crown Prince. Yet even then, Meiylin never abandoned him.
She had even pleaded with him to leave it all behind, to return with her to the North. She had offered to share all her wealth, to divide it into two, and still give him her own half. With that, they could raise soldiers, and she would stand with him as he hunted those responsible for the deaths of his mother, her mother-in-law_to be.
She had been his third arm, his strength when his own faltered. She had stayed through thick and thin—not this so-called princess they now wished him to wed.
When his father lay dying, the old man returned the title to Han Ji after learning of his other son's treachery. And though Han Ji had suspended his investigations into his mother's death, shutting himself away from the world, Meiylin did not leave. Even when he sent her back to the North at his father's order, she kept writing—letters filled with devotion and comfort, never once abandoning him.
Her loyalty had been unwavering. Her sacrifices countless.
Now, as she sat beside him, she wished to cry, to shout, to demand that he should not betray her. Yet her heart persuaded that he would not forsake her—not after all they had endured together.
Han Ji broke the silence at last.
"I am escorting Princess Yura back to the palace."
His words pierced her like a blade. Her tears finally slipped free, though she forced a smile through them as she asked in a trembling voice, "Why is she coming back? Is she taking you away from me?"
Han Ji reached for her face, cupping it gently. His voice was solemn, steady.
"You, before everything. No matter who I marry, you will be my Empress. Always."
His words soothed and tormented her all at once. She shook her head, her voice breaking.
"I do not want others to see me as a third wheel. Please, Han Ji… do not do this."
Han Ji lowered his gaze in shame. Perhaps he knew he was being unfair, for she had indeed sacrificed more for him than anyone else ever had. He lifted his head again, meeting her teary eyes, and said firmly:
"Then I will make you my Empress first. I will marry you before anyone else. Whoever comes after you will always be the third wheel. Mm?"
Her lips curved into a trembling smile. She nodded, her heart finally easing, and whispered her agreement.
That day, in the silence of the imperial chamber, a promise was renewed. A promise forged in childhood, tested through suffering, and sealed with devotion—the promise that Meiylin would be the first and only true Empress of Han Ji.
What a shame.