The Emperor smacked his lips as he regarded his eighteen-year-old son, who stood before him with his head bowed.
"The crown falls upon you now."
Jinhu stiffened. It was not a shocking word, but not the word he had expected—not today, not so soon.
His father was alive and strong. Jinhu had expected him to rule longer.
"Jinhu," the Emperor called, his voice carrying authority.
Jinhu lifted his head, yet there was no confidence in his gray eyes. One would expect more from the heir to the throne.
"Yes, Father."
"Did you not hear me? I said the crown falls upon you now."
"Yes, Father."
There was nothing more he could say. Even if it weighed heavily on him, he knew he could not refuse. It was his birthright, one he could never escape.
The Emperor did not seem pleased with the answer. His eyes narrowed and darkened as he said, "Prepare for your coronation—and your betrothal feast."
Jinhu's eyes widened. Betrothed? He had hoped the matter would never be raised. He was not looking forward to a match arranged before he was born. At ten years old, he had clasped the hand of Hari, the minister's daughter—the girl he was bound to wed once he took the throne. Yet he had never believed it would come to pass, not now that they were grown.
"Father, I barely…k-know her," he stammered, inhaling sharply when the Emperor's glare struck him.
Jinhu flinched and stepped back. The Emperor was a man of few words; his words were final and never to be opposed. Speaking further would be useless or dangerous.
"Yes, Father," Jinhu said, bowing his head again, though the Emperor had already fallen silent. There was no second talk in such matters. If he was told to marry Hari, then Hari he must marry. If he was told to ascend the throne, ready or not, then ascend he must.
"Preparations will take place in six days. On the seventh day, you will be crowned and wed to the daughter of the minister."
Jinhu gulped and said nothing. He wanted to ask for more time, to prepare himself fully, but instead he was being thrown into it without his basket set.
"Jinhu."
"Yes, Father."
A heavy silence followed, chilling his feet. For a moment, Jinhu thought his father would say nothing, but then he spoke, his voice darker than before.
"You will stand before emperors and ministers. If you must stand, I want you to stand as though you own the room."
"Yes, Father."
It was the weakest "Yes, Father" he had ever spoken, as if the Emperor had not just...
"Right now!"
Jinhu blinked, staring blankly at his father. The Emperor's frown deepened as he pointed at him from across the chamber.
"Stand erect. Right now."
Jinhu obeyed, joining his feet and keeping them straight.
"Your shoulders too. Raise them."
He did so.
"Good," the Emperor said, satisfied with his son's posture. He leaned back against the throne.
Clearing his throat, he watched the crown prince standing like a soldier.
"This is how you stand before your people, before those who serve you. This is how you show them you are fit to sit on this throne. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Father!"
The yelling and the loudest "Yes, Father" only made him feel more depressed. Leaving the throne room, his shoulders sagged as if he had walked three miles across Joseon.
"I can barely think," he murmured, dragging his feet along the floor.
Eunuch Park, an elderly man in his forties, came up beside the prince with a wide grin. The prince looking weary was nothing new, but that was not what made him smile so broadly. In fact, he smiled so much one might fear all his teeth would fall out.
"Well, I believe it is a good day, because the sky is light blue," he giggled.
Jinhu scowled at him, clearly irritated, not understanding why the "sky is blue" was even worth mentioning.
They turned the corners of the corridor leading to his quarters. It was early morning, and when he looked up at the sky, it was indeed crystal clear blue, though it did not excite him as it did Eunuch Park.
"Tell me, what makes you so happy?"
Eunuch Park leaned closer to Jinhu so the guards and maids trailing behind could not overhear.
"Her Lady, Hari, is waiting in your quarters."
Jinhu stopped abruptly, forcing all his followers to halt. His hands remained clasped behind his back. Even with his weary air, he was still intimidating, his blue eyes so cold they could send a chill down the spine.
Eunuch Park shifted uneasily at the look on the prince's face.
"What did you say?"
"La.. lady Hari. She is in your quarters."
He sighed. They had never shared any bond beyond their fathers' agreement. She had no reason to act friendly, for he truly had nothing to do with her.
He pointed to a maid, who hurried toward him, her eyes darting everywhere but his face.
"Tell Lady Hari I do not wish to see her, nor am I returning to my quarters. She may leave."
"Yes, Your Majesty." She bowed and rushed off.
Eunuch Park's mouth fell open, shut, opened again, then shut. He was so speechless he said nothing until the prince began walking in another direction, away from his room.
"I need fresh air."
He stopped abruptly.
"You are outside, my prince. You have as much air as..." Eunuch Park clamped his mouth shut when he caught the prince's sharp side glance.
"I need air of solitude."
Obviously, the eunuch did not catch the word, for he blinked, trying to process it. "Sodi…di…"
"Solitude. It means when one wants to be alone."
"Ahh." The eunuch nodded, flashing an appreciative smile. "That is easy."
He turned to the trailing guards and maids, clapped his hands, and at once they dispersed, leaving the corridor bare with only the two of them.
"You can finally sodify, my prince. Take as much air as you want."
The prince tilted his head, raising a brow. Eunuch Park, not understanding, raised his brow too.
Jinhu sighed. "It includes you, Eunuch Park. I truly need to be alone."
"Oh, but my prince, your coronation is near. I cannot leave you wandering alone. What if you are kidnapped?"
Jinhu raised a brow. He was not surprised the eunuch had eavesdropped on him and his father. He shrugged. "This is the palace. I am safe here."
"But my p..."
"Now, Park."
Hearing his name made the eunuch sigh. He nodded and walked away.
It was incredible how easily he spoke when servants were around, yet before the Emperor he was suddenly mute.
Jinhu shook his head and walked toward the east side of the palace, where the garden and orchard stood. It was his place of solitude, where he could think when everything grew too heavy—like now.
A few maids passed and greeted him, but he barely glanced their way. His brow remained drawn, his face hard as stone, frightening everyone. He ignored it all, locked in his own thoughts.
When he reached the orchard, he began to ease as the shade of the trees offered a semblance of peace. The branches swayed gently, birds chirped, and it was a beautiful morning, yet the weight did not lift.
Beneath the tree was a wooden seat, one he almost took until a voice stopped him.
It was a singing voice, drifting from the garden behind him.