The Vultures Gather
Grand Prince Uigu, born the Emperor's second son, had precious little to want for. His exalted rank as a prince was one such blessing, as were the people who flocked around him. In his youth, he'd captivated crowds with a silver tongue; as he'd aged, he'd swept them along on the strength of his position alone.
With the Emperor's eldest grandson dead before his time, the Crown Prince had been left without an heir. The moment that heirless Crown Prince ascended the throne, this man would become first in the line of succession. And yet it was a petty position, one that could be snatched away the instant the Crown Prince adopted a single son. For a man who had spent his entire life walking that precarious tightrope, he carried himself with remarkable confidence. He seemed convinced that once his father died and his brother followed, the throne would inevitably be his—and he behaved accordingly, as if he were already the next Emperor. In the worst possible sense.
"Grand Prince Uigu has arrived!"
"Your Highness. What kept you so long? Come sit over here."
"What are you talking about, my lord? I've been holding a seat for you right here. Come this way."
The moment Grand Prince Uigu stepped into Gyeongchun Hall, the chamber erupted into a din loud enough to split ears. The sight of them fawning before a new power broker was almost unbearable to watch. Each one vied to attach even a single flattering word, desperate to curry favor—it was almost commendable in its shamelessness.
"Haha. Why is everyone so worked up? Compose yourselves."
"We only want to sit beside you, Your Highness."
"Let's not be reckless. They say His Highness the Crown Prince's condition is grave. This is hardly the time for such noise."
Grand Prince Uigu's expression was positively radiant as he received the welcome from his faction. The way he laughed heartily while sizing up where to grace with his presence made him look every bit the affable hero.
Is that really how a brother reacts upon hearing his sibling has been in an accident?
Seon crossed her legs and bounced her shoe-tip restlessly. She wanted to show her displeasure, if only in this small way. Prince Gyeongan, clinging to their father's side and watching for every shift in mood, was pathetic enough—but the one who grated on her most was still Grand Prince Uigu. That bright smile simply refused to leave his face.
"Seon."
Just then, she sensed someone approaching from behind. At the sound of heavy footsteps drawing near, Seon glanced over her shoulder. Among the royals, she had almost no allies—but the person now coming toward her was different. Warmth spread across her face.
"Uncle. You're here?"
The man greeting her was Dong, Prince Yeongpyeong—Seon's sixth cousin. Grandson of Imperial Prince Yeonchin and great-grandson of the previous Emperor, Dong lived in Jeungpyeong, close to Jincheon where Grand Prince Uijeong's estate stood, so the two families had visited back and forth since childhood. Moreover, unlike the other royals, he was someone Seon could actually talk to.
He cast a sidelong glance at the crowd swarming around Grand Prince Uigu, dragged a chair over, and dropped into it with a thud. Even Seon's desolate corner of the hall began to feel less empty. Dong crossed his arms, looked toward Grand Prince Uigu, and clicked his tongue.
"Seems like Grand Prince Uigu is the most excited one here."
"The position he's coveted all his life is right in front of him. Of course he's giddy."
Seon murmured with a sneer. Dong shrugged, apparently sharing the sentiment. Fortunately, Seon wasn't alone in finding Grand Prince Uigu distasteful. His faction was clearly delineated—and so, just as clearly, were the gazes that regarded him with unease.
"Tsk. The Crown Prince has just suffered a calamity, and he can't even restrain himself."
"Grand Prince Uigu has always been a troublemaker, but he's truly a fish in water now."
"It's not as if the Crown Prince has died and they're holding a sacrificial rite. How can he hide his true feelings so poorly? Tsk. If only the Crown Prince had one more child."
The whispers carrying from far from Grand Prince Uigu's circle were distinct enough to make out. The only regret was that most of those who disapproved of him were elders—advanced in both age and generational rank. As they grew older, their attendance at imperial functions had dwindled, and so had their influence. Meanwhile, in yet another corner, a different group watched the situation in silence. These were royals at the very bottom of the succession order—people with no chance whatsoever of inheriting the throne, and therefore calculating opportunists who put their own prospective gains above all else.
Seon surveyed them all and let out a short breath. Sorting friend from foe. It felt like a lifelong assignment. Even though she'd lived her whole life far removed from the throne, that familiar discomfort—the one she'd been forced to learn firsthand—came crawling back.
"Seeing that triumphant face makes me want to throw ash at him."
Her mouth turned bitter for no good reason. There was something suspicious about the Crown Prince's accident, and the investigation had hit a wall. Grand Prince Uigu was the only one who stood to gain from all this—but the evidence wasn't enough to name him. Wanting to rush an investigation to a close and murdering the Crown Prince were crimes of entirely different weight. She couldn't bring herself to conclude that her second cousin had gone that far.
And yet her personal resentment kept raising its head. The man he'd shown himself to be over a lifetime was hardly clean or upright, even setting aside questions of crime. If someone like that became Emperor of this country, what would become of it? How could they present a leader whom even she—a royal—couldn't respect, before the entire nation?
Her thoughts grew tangled. Tae-oh's face kept surfacing—the way he'd left things unresolved with stubborn silence. That detective needed to understand her resolve. In a task force that already seemed to have fallen into Grand Prince Uigu's grasp, the only person she could trust was Kwon Tae-oh—the one man with no trace of having cut a deal with anyone. If only he'd show a little more commitment to the investigation. If only he'd move exactly as she wished. Anxiety made Seon's leg bounce.
"I heard you're joining the Special Investigation Team."
Dong asked in a hushed murmur. Seon glanced toward Grand Prince Uigu and nodded.
"If His Majesty personally named you and sent you, there must be something serious going on."
"I don't know how far Grandmother has thought this through, but they don't seem interested in actually investigating. Most of the members are close to Grand Prince Uigu."
"That won't be easy."
Dong sighed with genuine sympathy. He'd been called a prodigy from an early age—graduated middle school and high school early, then gone abroad on a scholarship. He was also the only royal to study overseas on an academic merit scholarship, not on a dignity allowance or through the Imperial Scholarship Foundation. Despite countless offers from abroad, Dong had returned to the Imperial Family after completing his studies. It was such an unconventional path that even foreign media had made noise about it—but Seon understood. Life in the Imperial Family was a thorn-strewn road that lasted a lifetime, but it was also a heavy burden. Neither Seon nor Dong was the type to simply cast it aside.
Since returning, Dong had taken the chairmanship of the Imperial Heritage Foundation, which managed the Crown's cultural properties—and Grand Prince Uigu's faction had made his work difficult at every turn. They'd invite guests into temporary palaces and secondary residences without authorization, or borrow cultural artifacts without proper procedure. Whenever he pushed back, they crushed him with rank and privilege. A monumental headache.
"Ugh."
As the cousins' sighs deepened, Imperial Prince Gong—chairman of the Imperial Clan Council—made his entrance. He was Imperial Prince Yeonchin's eldest son and the Emperor's most trusted and beloved nephew. When he took the chairman's seat and tapped his gavel, the noisy chamber finally fell into a strained silence. Now the oldest royal after the Emperor and Empress, he watched with a thoroughly exhausted expression as people shuffled about looking for their seats. Perhaps it was the aura of authority that radiated from decades of experience—even the loudest among them shut their mouths and scrambled to find somewhere to sit. At last, when even the final straggler had found a suitable place, the meeting began.
"Quite a few uninvited guests today."
The septuagenarian voiced his complaint in a voice drained of energy. The Imperial Clan Council was normally held about four times a year, and above all, it was never a warm gathering where this many relatives came together. Even to him the scene felt unfamiliar—irritation clung thick to every wrinkle on his face.
"Those without speaking rights will keep their mouths shut. Unless you want to attend this old man's funeral alongside the Crown Prince's."
Imperial Prince Gong grumbled as he opened the session. Still, he was a remarkably loyal royal. No matter how much authority Grand Prince Uigu threw around within the Imperial Family, Prince Gong answered to the Emperor alone. He was the son who best honored his father's vow never to encroach on his younger brother's authority—an upright man who knew how to reprimand younger siblings who strutted about as they pleased. Though illness had reduced his public duties of late, he was, at the very least, no enemy of Seon's.
"I'm sure everyone gathered here has already anticipated this, but His Highness the Crown Prince's prognosis is not favorable."
Imperial Prince Gong spoke with gravity. His solemn words hushed the chamber. She could also feel the sidelong glances darting toward Grand Prince Uigu. Seon had to force herself not to look at the triumphant expression she knew he must be wearing.
"As a precaution, His Majesty the Emperor has ordered preparations for a state funeral."
State funeral. The word landed heavier than it ever had before. The Emperor, Seon—everyone had already foreseen that the Crown Prince would not recover. But speaking it aloud before the assembly carried a different weight entirely. When she felt the murmur rising around Grand Prince Uigu, an unbearable disgust washed over her.
"Silence!"
Imperial Prince Gong, too, had caught the irreverent noise and barked the reprimand. Despite his age and stooped frame, his voice rang out clear and commanding. He examined the documents he'd brought in. Even with his reading glasses on, his vision seemed to blur—he furrowed his brow and read the contents haltingly. Every eye in the chamber fixed on his lips.
"His Majesty has ordered the establishment of the Three Funeral Directorates ahead of the Crown Prince's state funeral. By precedent, the Coffin Directorate will be overseen and decided by the Imperial Household Agency, and the director-generalships of the Mortuary Palace Directorate and the Funeral Rites Directorate have been entrusted to Grand Prince Uijeong. Our task now is simply to select the royals who will assist Grand Prince Uijeong."
"Pardon?"
The objection came first from the gallery. No doubt one of Grand Prince Uigu's lackeys, emboldened by the sight of his patron's face going cold. Come to think of it, Grand Prince Uigu's life had been remarkably easy. He had people who stepped forward on his behalf like this. Seon thought this as she absorbed the searching glances being cast about the hall—everyone looking for Grand Prince Uijeong, who had deliberately chosen not to attend.
"By precedent, shouldn't this go to Grand Prince Uigu, who precedes all others in the line of succession?"
"Exactly. If ever there was a time to honor procedure and precedent, it's now."
Grand Prince Uigu's followers, who had been holding their breath, began to chime in one by one. Even royals who normally stayed neutral were reading the room and jumping in. It seemed the news of the Crown Prince's critical condition had helped them decide whose banner to stand under. Honestly. When it came to moments like these, the royals were quicker than anyone at reading which way the wind blew.