Born As The Daughter of a Lowly Concubine - Chapter 135

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Born as the daughter of a minor concubine.
135
“Seong Hyeon…… Your Majesty the Queen?”
“Indeed. The First Queen of His Majesty the current Emperor, and also the mother of Crown Prince Seongwon.”
“Have you ever seen her in person?”
“I saw her once when I attended to the Princess. Of course, I cannot claim to have beheld Her Majesty the Queen directly myself. Yet I have heard from the palace ladies that the Princess resembled Her Majesty greatly.”
…….
The Queen, long since departed from this world, and her own daughter, the dead Princess, were said to share a mother and daughter’s likeness in their features.
That Princess resembled Princess Ongju’s Residence, whom she had never met, and Princess Ongju was a mother and daughter pair who resembled her biological mother, Yun So-ui, greatly.
Which meant, in turn, that the late Queen Seong Hyeon and Yun So-ui resembled one another.
Heo Yeon-tae did not notice Seong Gyeom-sabok lost in thought, and continued speaking.
“I have heard that Queen Seong Hyeon, even when she was still the Crown Princess, had a most harmonious relationship with His Majesty. It seemed odd that His Majesty, who showed no interest in women, would suddenly take a court lady as a concubine, but after meeting Princess Ongju, my questions somehow found their answers.”
…….
“Perhaps His Majesty too found great solace in the existence of Princess Ongju.”
After collecting his thoughts, Heo Yeon-tae turned to Seong Gyeom-sabok, who remained silent, and asked with a resolute face.
“I care not what becomes of me. But that child, Heo Seong-ji—she knows nothing. She must know nothing. If guilt must be assigned, cannot it fall upon me alone? She has only just begun to be recognized.”
“……I understand that Heo Seong-ji the physician bears no guilt.”
At those words, Heo Yeon-tae’s face brightened. Then he asked again, gravely.
“Will you report me?”
“……So be it.”
Seong Gyeom-sabok shook his head weakly.
Everything he had said matched perfectly with what he himself had investigated about him thus far.
Even the parts that had seemed incongruous now fit seamlessly with the story he had just heard.
As for the physician Geum Bi, investigation would quickly lay the facts bare.
He had even submitted to the court the Medical Text she had written, and had concealed nothing of its authorship.
The Naeuiwon would swiftly verify the truth regarding that physician.
Though she had been implicated in treason, that physician was already dead.
‘He need only have denied knowledge of that physician.’
He did not know. He had been deceived. Ordinarily, one might have deflected thus, but Heo Yeon-tae could not deny it.
Even with his life at stake.
Heo Yeon-tae laughed bitterly, as though sensing Seong Gyeom-sabok’s thoughts.
“……Ha. Do you think me pathetic?”
“No. Not pathetic. You are…….”
The words tumbled out before thought could stop them.
“Simply protecting the child of the woman you cherish.”
I could not protect her.
While I was far away, that person departed.
Yet Heo Yeon-tae remained at the side of the one he cherished, witnessed her final moments, and raised her child to become a skilled physician.
“I thought you would mock me. How unexpected…….”
How could he mock such a man?
“Guard your tongue. You have kept this hidden all these years with remarkable skill.”
“Then you have never drunk alone.”
For fear some word—some confession—might slip out. He drank instead until consciousness fled.
Or rather, he simply wished to flee, to forget, to bury it deep within his heart.
For he could tell no one.
Perhaps that is why the words came so easily now.
Above all, this man seemed as though he would understand.
“Still, I wanted to protect that child…….”
As though reading Heo Yeon-tae’s heart, the same words fell from Seong Gyeom-sabok’s lips.
“The child of a woman one cherishes—is that not as one’s own?”
“……Indeed!”
Even if they would never meet again.
That the child who bore her likeness, who was left behind by her, might live a happy life.
That was all the one left behind could do.
***
‘How much should I tell the Princess?’
Heo Yeon-tae, having unburdened himself entirely, seemed lighter of spirit and said he would place his fate in the Princess’s hands.
He said that if Heo Seong-ji’s guilt would not be questioned, he cared not what became of him.
His actions at that time were not without reason.
To be implicated in treason meant that even an innocent person would ordinarily be dragged before the Uigeumbu and subjected to merciless torture.
He must have known as much, and wanted to protect those he held dear.
‘I wonder what the Princess thinks of it all.’
She likely wouldn’t punish them. They were her own people, held in particular regard, and she’d known Heo Seong-ji for long enough to trust her deeply.
Everyone knew the Princess was a merciful woman, so I could say with confidence she wouldn’t punish Heo Seong-ji for a crime she hadn’t committed herself.
‘But the things Heo Yeon-tae said…….’
The dark rumors about Young-bin—I couldn’t bring myself to even broach them.
The same held true for Yun So-ui’s resemblance to Queen Seong Hyeon. What if the Princess learned of it? Might she not suffer a shock?
Seong Yoon felt the same, but anyone who knew the slightest bit about His Majesty had found it strange that a ruler who’d never shown much interest in the harem would suddenly take a maid as a concubine.
I’d heard the courtiers murmur more than once that someone like him wouldn’t do such a thing, when he already had so many concubines.
If the reason was that she resembled the Queen Consort he’d loved, it made more sense.
But had Yun So-ui truly been happy?
What was I, merely a Chae-tam-in, to compare myself with the divine majesty of His Majesty—yet had a life spent never being wholly loved, always threatened, truly been happy?
‘She said she wanted to have a family.’
That girl, orphaned and lonely among cold-hearted relatives, had said as much.
I should have stayed beside her.
Recalling that distant, hazy memory, Seong Gyeom-sabok made his way to the Princess’s Residence.
“Tee-hee-hee!”
Clear laughter rang out amid a landscape now grown familiar. Drawing closer, I could make out the Princess clinging to Cheon-ho’s back as he ran.
“Surely that’s enough?”
“Run faster! The kittens are chasing us!”
Indeed, several young kittens—still small and uncertain—came tumbling behind Cheon-ho. Seong Gyeom-sabok, having spent years coming and going from the Palace, didn’t need to check to know these must be the Crown Prince’s kittens.
The Princess’s attendants stood a little way off, giggling at the sight of it all.
Glimpsing this unexpectedly peaceful scene, a smile tugged unbidden at Seong Yoon’s mouth.
‘Long ago, she used to cling to my neck like that.’
Childhood, when I thought of nothing, content merely if she giggled and laughed for a moment.
Though the difference in our size wasn’t so great then, I remembered carrying her back on my shoulders after we’d grown weary searching for food in the mountains together.
Much faded now, little remained—but it had been a beautiful memory.
Yet Seong Gyeom-sabok’s eyes snapped wide, too taken aback for the reverie to linger.
‘That’s dangerous!’
Cheon-ho had now lifted the Princess entirely off the ground, letting her dangle from his arms as they played their reckless game.
Fortunately, contrary to his worry, the Princess hung securely in his grip—yet watching it was nerve-wracking. What surprised him most was the boy’s strength despite his youth.
Cheon-ho was a gifted child, in Seong Gyeom-sabok’s assessment.
He possessed not only good natural build, but sharp instincts.
For his young age, he was clearly destined for great things.
The boy himself, however, showed no ambition for advancement at so tender an age—instead, he stayed close by the Princess’s side as if tethered there.
I hesitated to intrude on their play, worried I’d spoil the moment, and found myself lingering in the shadow of a building when—
One of the Princess’s attendants noticed me first and spoke.
“You’ve arrived, sir.”
“Ah, yes.”
It was Song Bi, who served the Princess.
Soft-featured in contrast to the sharper Ga-i, Song Bi, despite serving such an active mistress, rarely left the Palace—she was always there, keeping her post. Part of it was that the Princess had taken to bringing So-i along everywhere lately, but it was also because Song Bi had recently begun preparing to leave the Palace, teaching some of the Residence’s attendants how to bake bread.
Because of this, Song Bi always carried the warm, toasty scent of fresh bread about her.
Yet despite having observed her for quite some time, there was little for us to discuss.
Seong Gyeom-sabok gestured toward Cheon-ho without thinking. “I’ve heard the boy comes and goes from the Princess’s Residence frequently these days. How do you find it?”

“His visits have certainly grown more frequent of late, but he showed little sign of fear toward the Palace from the start. Given how unselfconscious he is, the Princess seems quite at ease with him.”
He did appear quick to adapt, with an easy, unguarded manner.
“When the Princess was younger and spent time with her lady companions, she was cautious, almost like a doting older sister to the younger ones. But now she seems far more relaxed in his presence.”
“If the Princess finds it comfortable, that’s a relief.”
That was what I said, but truthfully, another thought crept in.
‘Could that mean she’s treating him carelessly?’
Whether Song Bi sensed what was on my mind or not, she asked her next question.
“Are you displeased, sir?”
“What? No, not at all.”
“The Princess does not neglect you. But you have your duties as Gyeom-sa-bok, do you not?”
“Ha. But if I were to give up the post, it would become difficult to visit the Princess, so I can hardly abandon it.”
I answered with half jest and half sincerity when an unexpected question was posed.
“Why is it, Seong Gyeom-sabok, that you choose to serve the Princess rather than the Crown Prince?”
“I beg your pardon?”

Song Bi’s usual quiet smile looked unsettling today, somehow darker than before.
“Did you know? Ga-i received clemency thanks to the Princess, and I myself had long been acquainted with So-ui, the Princess’s birth mother.”
“I didn’t know that.”
He’d never been close enough to the palace women to share such things. They both had to be careful—one careless word could breed misunderstanding.
“The Palace is…… a lonely place. We palace women are fortunate if we can serve someone like the Princess and live in peace. But you, Seong Gyeom-sabok—you are not like us, with no choice in the matter, are you?”
And with her next words, Seong Gyeom-sabok felt a sudden chill run down his spine.
“I remember the person who came looking for So-ui, back when she was still a Nain.”
“……!”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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