The Storm Unforeseen
Some called Seon stubborn to a fault; others said she had gone rotten to the core. It was hard to say which verdict was correct, but she herself thought both rang true.
She had not been born proclaiming principles. The child born to Prince Uijeong and Lady Yeosan—a tiny thing at 2.6 kilograms—had once been full of dreams and hopes. Going to an amusement park without a single bodyguard, playing outside until she was scraped and bruised. She had harbored such small dreams, and ambitions so absurdly grand they seemed laughable now. Every trip to the hospital, she declared she wanted to be a nurse; every time the television came on, she announced she would become an announcer.
Dreaming dreams that changed several times a day while the adults around her smiled warmly—there had certainly been a time when that alone was enough to make her happy.
But at seven years old, after that day, everything turned upside down. Innocence alone could not survive in the imperial family. Empty dreams could protect nothing.
"Never forget that you are a member of the imperial family, Seon. Your choices, your actions—there are eyes watching all of it. You must always remember what consequences follow from your every movement."
Seon had been naive, but she had also been clever. Yet from that seventh year onward, she became an entirely different person. To protect the people she loved, and to protect herself. She had no choice but to temper her core again and again until she became unbreakable.
And so, even when that autumn proved relentlessly busy, even when her body ached from shouldering other royals' irresponsibility, she carried out her share without a word of complaint.
"Are you all right?"
"Ha..."
Even so, enough was enough. It was routine for her to be buried under official duties, but there were always days that stood out worse than others.
Seon studied her face in a hand mirror from the backseat of the limousine. The bloodshot eyes staring back drew one sigh after another. The morning had begun with a visit to the pediatric ward of Soohakwon University Hospital, and her schedule was packed solid through dinners with a procession of ambassadors. No matter how famous and beloved a royal she was, she was hardly obligated to run herself ragged like this.
The reason Seon was suffering now was entirely the fault of those damned bastards.
"Still no word from Prince Gyeongan?"
A cousin who was stupid, empty-headed, and possessed only the talent for infuriating people. An uncle who watched his son's antics with something like pride, casually neglecting his own duties. And trailing behind them like ducklings, fifth cousins and sixth cousins alike—shamelessly ignoring their own responsibilities while faithfully collecting the stipends paid to titled royals.
The sources of Seon's fury were legion, but today her ire fixed squarely on Prince Gyeongan, who had been in hiding for days. He had wasted years on Ivy League preparations far beyond his station, barely managed to get into some state college, and then spent four years on a two-year program. The graduate school he'd scraped into by the skin of his teeth remained ungraduated to this day. Upon returning to Korea recently, he'd claimed he was taking leave out of concern for the Emperor's health, but rumors abounded that his advisor had finally kicked him out.
Seriously. Now that he was back, shouldn't he at least have the decency to show up for his duties?
"The sun's high in the sky. No matter how much he drank, shouldn't he be sober by now?"
"Hardly. Were you perhaps expecting him to be?"
Jo Seok-cheol, her Jeonwi seated in the front passenger seat, glanced back at her and replied coolly. Unable to contain the anger boiling inside her, Seon gritted her teeth.
Living as a royal, she had grown accustomed to keeping her emotions hidden. But whenever she thought of Prince Gyeongan, fury flared up unbidden. By and large, Seon despised those who neglected their obligations as royals while pocketing every privilege that came with the title.
She had just finished reading fairy tales to the children in the pediatric ward—alone. Now it was time to head to a traditional market for a scheduled encouragement visit. This was a schedule that should have been shared with Prince Gyeongan.
"He appears to still be at Grand Prince Uigu's residence in Changwon. No particular news has come through."
Jo Seok-cheol explained, absently swiping through his tablet. Feeling her fist clench, Seon struck her own thigh. Through the thin fabric of her autumn-weight dress, soft flesh compressed under her knuckles.
The Imperial Household Agency kept assigning him duties, but the shameless, pathetic cousin hadn't set foot outside his house once since returning to the country. Well—judging by the steady stream of women visiting Grand Prince Uigu's residence, that place he seemed to think grander than the palace itself, he was definitely home.
The duties he'd thus skipped were reassigned to Seon, on the grounds that the most popular and famous royal was best suited to smooth things over. She believed that stepping forward as the public face to quell public resentment was part of a royal's duty. But the daily grind of absorbing his workload on top of her own had grown tiresome.
"If he's going to keep this up, he should just give up his pathetic title and live however he pleases without anyone breathing down his neck!"
Seon growled.
"That deadbeat who won't fulfill a single obligation. Shouldn't the Office of the Inspector General step in and discipline him by now?"
"File a complaint and who's going to investigate? The Inspector General's office is Grand Prince Uigu's backyard too."
"Where exactly hasn't that snake's reach extended?"
Seon shook her head in disgust. Grand Prince Uigu was Seon's second-eldest uncle. The Emperor's second son, he lacked public recognition but—laughably—wielded considerable influence within the imperial family. This was because he poured far more effort into building his own faction than into his official duties.
Perhaps because of this, despite the rightful heir—the Crown Prince—clearly existing, the faction supporting the second son grew larger by the day. Known for his good temperament, his generosity, and his love of bestowing favors, the Grand Prince openly drew people into his orbit. Audaciously, some even went around saying the man had the makings of an Emperor. Each time, he would deflect with ambiguous words that neither confirmed nor denied, earning further praise as the humble Grand Prince.
For all that, he was nothing but a filthy wretch coveting another man's throne.
"If he's going to play the good-natured prince, shouldn't he at least do his job?"
That magnificent Grand Prince Uigu pawned off the imperial family's tedious tasks onto his younger siblings and nephews and nieces. Yet at photogenic venues, meetings with conglomerate chairmen, state receptions—events like those, he showed his face whether they were his responsibility or not.
Neglecting duties while claiming every privilege. It was precisely the behavior Seon despised most.
Korea was a constitutional monarchy. The Emperor was the symbol of the nation, the symbol of national unity, the head of state, and the representative of Korea to the world. He acknowledged and upheld the Constitution, the nation's supreme law, and acted upon the collective will of the sovereign people.
When the nation was in chaos, and when the war of independence was fought, the imperial family had stood at the vanguard. The country's very name was chosen to signify that neither they nor the people who had stood behind them would ever be forgotten. And so the people and the imperial family always walked the same path, and the royals, as their proper duty, were bound to contribute to social stability and national prosperity.
It was a simple, clear lesson that Seon had certainly learned before she turned five. Royals who ranked higher than her in the line of succession were holed up at home, ignoring duties that even a five-year-old royal understood the worth of. Wasn't this worse than some obscure cadet branch quietly dodging their responsibilities?
Bzzt—
Just then, the phone in Seok-cheol's hand vibrated. Seon picked up the prepared bottle of cold water and twisted off the cap. As the chill slid down her throat, she could only hope that the call was Prince Gyeongan, finally crawling out of his bottle, calling to repent.
"Yes? Yes. Yes."
Seok-cheol's voice darkened rapidly as he took the call. If it were Prince Gyeongan, his temperature would rise rather than his voice darken—so this wasn't the call she'd been hoping for.
"Yes. Then... It seems so, yes. We'll head there at once. Yes."
When he finally set down the phone, his expression was grave. Years of instinct in this life told Seon immediately that something was terribly wrong. This was no matter of Prince Gyeongan or Grand Prince Uigu.
She drew a deep breath. Whenever things turned like this, a devastating blow was sure to follow. The fresh air filling her lungs would blunt the shock somewhat.
Seok-cheol steadied his breathing for a moment, then reported to her.
"Today's schedule is cancelled. An imperial decree has been issued ordering all royals to stand by at their residences."
"What?"
Seon's expression hardened. The smile that had lingered at the corners of her mouth had vanished without a trace.
No matter how she turned it over, there was no event that could justify halting the imperial family's official schedule. Even if Prince Gyeongan, that walking disaster factory, had caused a major incident—even if Grand Prince Uigu had failed to clean up his son's mess—there was no reason for every royal working for the people to stop in their tracks. And wasn't tonight's scheduled banquet a state event?
As gooseflesh spread across her body at the ominous premonition, Seok-cheol forced himself to speak.
"...The Crown Prince has been in an accident."
The water bottle in Seon's hand dropped to the floor.
Bang!
The half-full bottle bounced and rolled across the floor. But unaware that the limousine floor and her shoe-clad feet were being soaked in cold water, she asked blankly:
"Jo Seok-cheol. What did you just say?"
"Your Highness. Please calm yourself."
Seok-cheol spoke in a rigid tone, his own emotions held in check. This was precisely when she needed to stay composed. Seon clasped her trembling hands tightly and nodded.
Seeing that she had regained some composure, Seok-cheol continued.
"The Crown Prince was in a serious accident while traveling to Suwon. His heart stopped once during transport to the hospital. Fortunately, it resumed, but his condition is not good."
"What does that mean?"
"They say there is no chance of resuscitation."
No chance of resuscitation?
For an instant, Seon felt the world tilt beneath her. Her eldest uncle—the one she'd been closest to, the one she'd revered—was going to die?
In that instant when everything went dark, Seon felt something else. That she had been hurled into a massive storm she had never once dared to dream of.