Much to Lose
Like a slow-gathering cloud, a man's face kept trying to settle over Seon's thoughts. One moment he seemed a wretched rat, the next a tiger — a man who frightened her one minute and made her want to laugh the next.
Seon shook her head firmly from side to side again, sweeping the face away.
"There are movements outside that want to abolish the imperial family altogether, but there are fools inside as well — fools who believe that if the dynasty's root were simply removed, the throne would fall to them."
The structure of the imperial family was a touch complicated. The former Emperor had two sons and a daughter. His eldest, however, had been born of a concubine, while the second son and the daughter were the children of Empress Jinseong, a concubine who had risen to the seat of Empress.
When the Imperial Law was enacted, the right of succession passed to the second son, now legitimate — but Empress Jinseong, who had taken in the former Emperor's eldest son and raised him from childhood, made him a Prince and formally entered him into her own line as her adopted son. And with that, he gained a justification of his own: the succession claim of having legally become the Empress's eldest son.
"Of course, Prince Yeon and Princess Jeonghoe never coveted the throne themselves, but there are still royals who look back on that claim with regret."
"Strictly speaking, both of them stood ahead of His Majesty in the line of succession."
"There will always be small fry muddying the waters. Well — it isn't as if they alone are to blame."
On the surface, the imperial family looked harmonious and at peace, but within its walls thrived factions that tore at one another, each grasping for the smallest advantage. Traced far back, such feuding might begin with the descendants of Prince Yeon or Princess Jeonghoe, but look no further than the people at hand and there she had it — her second-eldest uncle, that sly old snake.
Seok-cheol, her Jeonwi, seemed to agree; his face had set hard, and he gave a series of stiff nods.
"Then do you believe someone within the royal family was involved in His Highness the Crown Prince's accident?"
"Hard to say. What do you think, Jeonwi Jo?"
"I understand Your Highness's reasoning, but I doubt any of them would go out of their way to make such a reckless move."
"Fair enough. Royals do have a great deal to lose."
For a royal, plenty came simply with breathing. It began with a personal allowance for maintaining one's station, paid from the moment of birth; once a title was conferred, further stipends accrued according to rank, and the budgets allotted to each palace were considerable in their own right. Marry and leave your parents' household, and a country estate was granted on top of it all — a life of luxury, no question about it.
Then again, what was so special about being royal in the twenty-first century? Born the Emperor's youngest granddaughter, Seon had never once resented the place she held. But then, human beings were creatures born of greed. The right of succession was never merely a number tallying one's turn at the throne. Even the upkeep allowances were paid out in tiers by succession order — the higher one stood, the more often one was called to appear before the public.
"You know about this too, don't you, Jeonwi Jo? Grand Prince Uigu keeps demanding promotion to the rank of Prince."
"Yes. He has been pressing that demand tirelessly for a very long time."
The Emperor was exceptionally strict where tax money was concerned. Ever since stipends had been set to scale with title, he had cut pointless expenditure wherever he could — to the point of granting his own sons the lesser title of Grand Prince instead of Prince. Yet for all that he was the son of such a father, Grand Prince Uigu's dogged insistence on becoming a Prince was, in the end, a greed born of money.
"Having much to lose means holding much in your grasp — and wanting to hold still more, doesn't it?"
Seon murmured it, half to herself.
That Grand Prince Uigu kept close company with figures from the political and business worlds, arranging marriages for the collateral royals while cultivating friendships with high public officials, was a fact known to all the world. That he skimmed backhand money off sponsorship funds along the way was known to everyone who needed to know. Had the Emperor been even a few years younger with his fire intact — or at the very least had the Office of the Inspector General remained fully under his control — this would certainly have been stamped out. But with the Emperor ailing, and the Inspector General — the very organ meant to check such abuse — overflowing with Grand Prince Uigu's people, there was nothing to be done now.
Seok-cheol frowned. "Is it him, then, that Your Highness suspects? Surely Grand Prince Uigu wouldn't have gone so far as to orchestrate something like that?"
"Who knows. The investigation will tell."
Seon smiled thinly and laced her fingers together, clasping them so tight the knuckles pressed flush against one another, as though to make sure her hands would never come apart.
"Your Highness."
Jeonwi Jo, who had worn a grave expression as though sunk in thought, swept a hand back through his hair and let out a short sigh.
"You must never voice these suspicions of yours outside these walls. Not under any circumstances."
"I know."
That I still have no power of my own.
Swallowing the last of it, Seon pressed her laced hands against her chin. Her protruding knuckles dug into the bone of her jaw — she was gripping so hard the joints had gone white.
Having watched her for a moment, Jeonwi Jo calmly relayed the situation.
"His Majesty will convene a royal family council the day after tomorrow. The standby order on the royals is to be lifted tomorrow night."
"And the council's agenda?"
"By then the media embargo will have lifted. Countermeasures, presumably."
They had barely managed to hold the press at bay over the Crown Prince's current condition, but it was far too large an incident to bury. With no exact report of his state, someone was bound to sense that something was amiss. The accident's scale was substantial enough that posts asking what on earth had happened were already cropping up now and then on internet forums. Holding the line for a full four days meant the Imperial Household Agency had thrown every ounce of its power into keeping it quiet.
Of course, a royal family council would hardly accomplish anything so grand. As a lot, royals were mostly fools, greedy to boot. But it was the perfect occasion for the Emperor to keep watch over them exactly as he pleased.
"And there is somewhere you must go tomorrow, before the standby order is officially lifted and the royals begin moving about again."
"Alone?"
"It is an imperial command."
At the words imperial command, Seon snapped wide awake. The suggestion from her meeting with the Emperor the day before came back to her — the summons to join the Imperial Special Investigation Team and aid its inquiry. Not a request. An order.
"Will I really be any help?" Seon asked, her voice wavering between hope and doubt, and this time even Seok-cheol could not answer with conviction.
"His Majesty so wills it — what is there to be done?"
Seon let out a sigh. She had sounded sure of herself before the Emperor, but here and now, the road ahead felt impossibly murky. What could she possibly gain from joining an investigation destined to proceed as empty ritual? And what did her grandfather expect of her?
The future was going dark before her eyes, yet regrettably, time flowed on all the same.
Today held no public schedule with cameras in tow, yet the household had thrown itself into preparations from the early morning. That even for a private engagement every last detail from makeup to dress had to be seen to was the fruit of long instruction. Wear a garment even a shade off, or gloves of mismatched length, and you would be torn apart for it — such was a royal's life. Even a room of nothing but officials assembled for the investigation was no place to show a single crack.
And then there were the documents Seok-cheol had brought her the night before. I knew the Office of the Inspector General had been swallowed whole by Grand Prince Uigu — but to think his faction had reached into the police as well. Seon pressed her lips into a thin line. Since receiving the roster of the Imperial Special Investigation TF and its accompanying notes, she had been too aggrieved even to sleep properly. The whole venture was a fiasco before it had begun.
"Oh dear — Your Highness! Your lip color's come off."
Only at the court lady's scolding did Seon smooth her face back into composure. She closed her eyes to the ticklish feel of the brush gliding back and forth across her lips.
The car carrying Seon slid quietly toward the underground parking garage of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency. With the Crown Prince's accident classified, her visit too had to proceed under the strictest secrecy. Deliberately attired in a tweed jacket, with trousers and shoes matched all in black, Seon stepped out of the car.
After a slight bow to Jeonwi Jo, who had gotten out first from the passenger seat to open her door, she set foot on the ground — and met an unfamiliar voice.
"Good day."
At the low, unyielding voice, Seon lifted her head slowly.
A casual black T-shirt under a thin dark-brown leather jacket, dark-wash jeans — the man returned her greeting with a blunt, unreadable expression. The short hair revealed as he bowed looked sharp enough to prick her, like a hedgehog's spines, and despite herself she faltered for a moment. Nor was the hair the only sharp thing about him; the voice that followed had an edge all its own.
"I'm Inspector Kwon Tae-oh. I'll be your escort."
As the man straightened, she caught sight of the badge swinging near his broad chest — his photograph set squarely within it, the face a touch younger than the one before her now.
Seon gave a short, dry cough and dipped her head in a light bow.
"Thank you for the escort. I am Princess Cheongyang."
That was all. A single greeting, and yet the man's brow had knotted with boundless displeasure. For Seon — confident at the very least in her popularity with the public — it was the first cold shoulder of her life.