The Perfect Doll

Haah. A deep sigh escaped Seon, but her mind stayed blank white, and the scene before her eyes still refused to come back into focus.

It was her eldest uncle who had cherished her more than anyone in the world. He had loved his niece like his own daughter, gathered her in whenever she faltered, and at times been a steadier support than even her own father.

And now that precious person — again. Why?

In an instant, heat rushed to her eyes and fever climbed through her whole body. She wanted, that very moment, to weep openly and cry out her uncle's name until her voice gave out. No matter how many times one lived through it, parting never became a familiar pain.

Seon dropped her gaze to the floor and drew in a long breath. Fresh air filled her hollow lungs, and slowly, light kindled again behind her tangled thoughts.

She was a member of the imperial family. Open a window, and the air was thick with reporters; watching eyes pressed in from every direction. The very fact that the news had reached her through Seokcheol meant the embargo was still holding. She could not afford the slightest crack. She had to judge things as a royal was expected to.

"And the press?"

"They've caught wind of the accident itself, but the news that His Highness the Crown Prince has passed hasn't gotten out yet."

She had to keep her wits razor-sharp. Seon recited to herself what she had been drilled in all her life. Find the best role I can play right now, and perform it flawlessly. Because if even a sliver of it looked off, the world would catch on to this enormous news.

On that score, at least, she had confidence. The most beloved member of the royal family — that was never a distinction earned by a pretty face alone.

She wiped away the tears that had welled up only to be forced back, then lifted a hand mirror and checked, rigorously, that not a trace of moisture remained.

"First, the greetings."

At her words, Seokcheol gave her face an inspection of his own. What he saw was exactly that: a flawlessly beautiful royal bearing no trace of grief.

When he nodded, Seon lowered the window with practiced ease. It was a routine built over years of raising her profile as a royal. Let a single small thing slip, and everything would be laid bare.

Hide it. She had to hide it.

Through the open window seeped the cheers of the crowd gathered to watch her car. As if nothing at all had happened, Seon beamed and gave a light wave.

"Princess!"

"Your Highness, look over here too!"

Shutters clicked from the phones and cameras raised in every hand. Without so much as a blink at the din, Seon arranged an elegant smile.

A doll dressed in the perfect image people wanted to see. That was the reality of the royal standing at the center of the Empire.

The black limousine pulled away at a crawl, timed so the reporters and onlookers could get their photographs. The moment the car had put enough distance between itself and the crowd, Seon closed the window. The bright face she wore for the public vanished, and only cold composure remained.

Seokcheol, who had watched the whole exchange in silence, spoke quietly once the window was fully raised.

"All royals who were on official duty are being ordered back to their residences. You, however, are asked to come to the Imperial Palace instead — it would take too long for you to reach Jincheon."

"All right."

She answered briefly and turned her head away. Even on the sidewalks along the road down from the hospital hill, people could be seen waving at the tinted car. Without lowering the window, Seon waved back at them all the same. It didn't matter that she couldn't really see them. It was simply an old habit, and a duty.

"Hurry."

At her word, Seokcheol gave a short nod and relayed the destination to the driver.

It took barely ten-odd minutes to reach Changdeokgung from Soohakwon University Hospital. The whole way, Seon's phone rang without pause. The news hadn't yet spread beyond the palace walls, so every call came from the royal family itself.

Her father, Grand Prince Uijeong Yeol, had been the first to call, and his worry for his parents came pouring out before anything else. That was the first role Seon had been assigned.

Her mother had said this to Seon, her voice shaking. What sort of trigger this accident had become for her, Seon could tell at once. So that her mother would not be startled, would not sink any deeper into anxiety, she had to promise she would — dozens of times over.

By the time she finally managed to end the call, even her more distant cousins had taken to ringing her. Having listened until her ears rang to words she could not tell were admonition or worry, Seon stepped out of the car far paler than she had been in the first moments after learning of her uncle's death — pale enough that Seokcheol, from the passenger seat, kept glancing back at her in concern.

"You have come, Your Highness."

As if she had already known of her arrival, the Head Court Lady who had been waiting greeted Seon the moment her foot touched the ground. Unlike the world beyond the palace, still living out its ordinary day with no inkling of the bereavement, this place was already deep in mourning. No one so much as raised their voice, and the silence was desolate.

Seon let her gaze travel over the court ladies bustling to and fro. Some had already changed into mourning dress, others hurried between posts, but every face was grim.

"Where might Their Majesties be?"

"In Daejojeon, Your Highness."

The Head Court Lady answered without protest. It meant she had no intention of barring her way to Daejojeon.

"Only — Her Majesty the Empress has fainted, you see. The Taeyiwon physicians are in attendance now."

"...Haah." Seon tipped her face toward the sky and let out a short breath.

The face of her eldest uncle surfaced first — the uncle who always doted on his niece, saying he was lonely with only the one son. To think she would never again see that face of his, always breaking into its good-natured, hearty laugh.

The eyes of the Head Court Lady standing silently beside her had already gone red-rimmed. This night would not be an easy one for anyone within these walls. Even for Seon, who had held herself together the entire way, moisture gathered in her eyes.

"Your Highness."

Perhaps he had noticed how her heart had gone soft and unstrung; from behind her, Seokcheol spoke in a hard voice.

"You must keep your resolve firm. Right now, you are the only one who can stand beside Their Majesties."

"Hmm." Seon scrubbed away the moisture and steadied her voice. It was no moment for qualms about being hard-hearted. Here, too, she had her part to play.

"I know. Which must be why the Imperial Household Agency sent me here — expecting me to keep watch at Their Majesties' side."

The Head Court Lady promptly guided Seon toward Daejojeon. The short walk felt like a tunnel without end.

In the forecourt of Daejojeon, the court ladies and eunuchs standing in waiting were in disarray. Some were weeping; some murmured over what had happened; some strained forward bodily, as if to catch whatever words might drift out of Daejojeon.

"Ahem!"

The Head Court Lady's low, weighty bark cracked through the air and was gone. Kept low for fear it might reach the Emperor and Empress within, it still carried authority in full measure.

Twin flames blazing in her eyes, she glared at the court ladies and eunuchs — the look was nearly ferocious. Not a single word of censure passed, yet silence fell over the courtyard in an instant.

"Forgive me, Your Highness."

Seon, too, let her gaze drift slowly across the scene. She saw the young court ladies and eunuchs flinch and duck their heads. With a short sigh, she shook her head.

"From today on, a great many things will happen. Their Majesties will have no mind to spare for the inner palace as well — so it falls to you, Head Court Lady, to set the discipline straight."

"I shall bear it in mind."

As the Head Court Lady bowed low, Seon moved forward once more. Like the Red Sea parting, the scattered, restless crowd quietly fell into line and cleared her path.

Seon stepped into the main hall of Daejojeon.

It was a place where the aged dwelled, so it had never exactly brimmed with life — but neither had it ever been this quiet. The Emperor would sit in his mother-of-pearl-inlaid chair over games of Go; the Empress would lose herself in her knitting. It had been a space of plain, ordinary days.

Now, however, it was still to the point of excess, save for the sobbing of the elderly court ladies keeping vigil in the corridor.

"To the East Ondol Room, Your Highness."

As Seon hesitated in the corridor, the Head Court Lady added. When Seon's gaze strayed, troubled, toward the West Ondol Room where the Empress would be, she explained with firm finality.

"Her Majesty the Empress is with the physicians, being treated. His Majesty has commanded that you be escorted to the East Ondol Room at once."

To be called to the East Ondol Room — the Emperor's own bedchamber — meant the Emperor had something he wished to say to her. Seon gave the West Ondol Room one last look, then nodded. If the physicians were at work, there was nothing she could accomplish by going there.

Seon's steps carried her past the middle of the hall's corridor and toward the east — toward the Emperor's chamber. Before the bedchamber of the Emperor, the most exalted person in the land, only a single elderly Sangseon stood keeping watch.

As though he had been waiting for her, Sangseon opened the door at once, without a word. No announcement had been made, and yet the door swung wide as naturally as breathing.

And within, the master of the hall greeted her with an expression calm yet worn with fatigue, as if he, too, had known she would come.

Her grandfather's unremarkable words sounded, today of all days, strangely off.

It felt as though she had just set foot inside a vortex whose depths she could not fathom.