Royal Coup d'État - Chapter 19

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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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Chapter 19
A maelstrom of confusion swirled through Heuijeongdang. There wasn’t a soul present who dared open their mouth in such an atmosphere.
The Emperor’s expression resembled that of a Baekdu Mountain tiger, extinct for decades. His gaze was sharp and piercing as it bore down upon them, and the imposing presence emanating from his frame was formidable enough to bring even Tae-o—a detective—to his knees.
Yet Sun remained unflinching. Still bowing at a measured angle, she waited for the Emperor’s response without a flicker in her eyes.
Tae-o knew little of the imperial household, but he could at least recognize that Sun’s behavior was the most appropriate response to the situation. The Emperor’s fierce aura was beginning to dissipate, bit by bit.
“The autopsy of the Crown Prince is a matter that must not be spoken of lightly. Surely the Lord of Cheongseong would not be unaware of this.”
“Yes. How could I not know, Your Majesty?”
The Emperor’s words sounded like a rebuke—why mention what is forbidden?—yet also resembled a form of appeasement, as if he were coaxing her.
“However, Your Majesty, upon examining the scene evidence and investigation records, I detected something questionable.”
“A question does not guarantee that one receives the answer one seeks.”
Even as he spoke, the Emperor seemed to be testing Sun, as if waiting for her to say something he desired. A spark of vitality flickered faintly in his aged eyes.
“Should this matter prove to be not an accident but a crime, would we not be obligated to apprehend the perpetrator?”
Sun raised her head with deliberate slowness. When her gaze finally lifted to meet his, Tae-o found himself face to face with the luminous countenance before him.
Her expression remained gentle, but this time her lips held no trace of a smile. Her voice was grave, and her eyes gleamed with purpose—as if she yearned for something now within her reach, burning with quiet intensity.
“I wish only that my uncle’s death not remain shrouded in doubt.”
Sun’s words concluded cleanly. They carried a dual meaning: the memory of her uncle who was Crown Prince, the memory of her uncle who was Prince Ui-yeong, and the determination that neither be consigned to obscurity.
“If the Crown Prince’s very end is desecrated and yet nothing comes to light, who bears that responsibility?”
“Your Majesty, I understand that not even a shred of suspicion can be left unresolved.”
Yet Sun had no intention of yielding now. She was no longer that seven-year-old child.
Just as Prince Ui-yeong’s death had remained a mysterious traffic accident, she would not allow the Crown Prince’s death to rest as an unfortunate mishap.
She wanted no more deaths. She could not bear to stand witness, eyes wide open, while someone continued to steal away her cherished ones. If this was anyone’s design, it was unforgivable.
She could not imagine such a person becoming Emperor. One must verify whether they possessed the legitimate qualifications worthy of the throne. She believed this was her duty.
“If we lose the opportunity for an autopsy now, it will never return. I beseech you, grant me this permission.”
The Emperor’s face, as he watched Sun bow respectfully before him, was harder than it had ever been. He then shifted his gaze to Tae-o, who had been observing the situation from the side.
“The Lord of Cheongseong makes her case. What is your view?”
“Ah, I…”
“You haven’t been manipulating my granddaughter, have you?”
As the direction of reproach shifted, Tae-o’s fingers trembled once more. His mind raced in the face of that piercing gaze, as if his very character were being tested.
“The Lord is far more adept at grasping the blind spots than I, a mere detective. I am simply attempting to verify the points she has identified.”
“In others’ eyes, my granddaughter possesses neither great power nor authority. What reason would there be to follow the Lord of Cheongseong this far? An imperial investigation is no simple matter.”
Before the Emperor’s frigid countenance, Tae-o hesitated for a moment.
He knew this action was not like him. He could have feigned ignorance, quietly covered it all up. But now that he had come this far, regret was meaningless. Tae-o answered with the utmost gravity.
“I too believe this autopsy could yield considerable insight. At the very least, we can determine with certainty whether someone intervened. The Lord emphasized to me that uncovering the truth is a detective’s role.”
“You’re confident you’ll find answers?”
“The investigation is not so careless as to harbor doubts. Trust your granddaughter as you do—and likewise trust the method your granddaughter has chosen.”
“Ah…”
The Emperor drew a deep breath.
Tae-o stole a glance at Sun beside him. Standing with her posture rigid and her hands folded before her, she embodied the very essence of imperial nobility—unmistakably different from the royals he had seen in the news. Truly a figure worthy of the imperial house.
But Tae-o’s wandering thoughts snapped back as the Emperor released another measured sigh.
“I cannot grant this officially.”
“Your Majesty!”
Sun called out urgently. Yet he continued with unshaken resolve.
“During the mourning period, the Crown Prince must remain at Binjeon. Everyone will believe his body is there.”
The Emperor’s words were cryptic. Yet Tae-o, with his detective’s instinct, grasped it at once. This was not a prohibition against the autopsy.
The Emperor had said he could not grant it “officially.” If the method were unofficial, he would turn a blind eye.
Sun seemed to interpret his meaning the same way, for she fell momentarily silent. Her eyes began to move swiftly, as if searching for something.
“I am grateful for your understanding. Yet drawing attention away will prove difficult.”
“What of the Royal Kinship Council? In the end, you need only hold one person in check.”
The Emperor’s words carried weight. His insistence on placing Sun within the Imperial Special Investigation Team was rooted in considerable reasoning and suspicion.
Sun felt a sudden sense of relief. The frustration of not fully grasping her grandfather’s intention now dissolved. She was on the right path. That realization alone buoyed her spirit.
“I hear that yesterday, even non-member royals came to observe at the Royal Kinship Council?”
“Yes. Troublingly so—quite a number.”
“Then that serves well. The more royals in attendance, the more the press will deem it a meaningful gathering.”
The succession to the throne had not yet been announced, and the Emperor’s intentions remained ambiguous. For all Prince Ui-gu’s nominal position as heir, nothing could be confirmed. Any royal family member might attend in hopes of something yet, and any journalist would be drawn by the prospect of a scoop.
When such appetites were scattered and diffuse, it was the perfect time to draw public attention toward the Royal Kinship Council.
“I shall have Prince Gong-chin convey the subject matter to the council. However, we cannot afford to protract this.”
“The specific methods will be determined through discussion with Captain Tae-o.”
Sun’s eyes flickered briefly toward Tae-o as she answered. He stiffened at her gaze and quietly assented.
The Emperor, without speaking, observed their exchange before nodding slowly. Then, after a moment of tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the desk, he spoke once more.
“Captain Tae-o, would you step out for a moment?”
At the Emperor’s words, Tae-o bowed his head. It was a dismissal.
His sharp gaze cut through Tae-o like a blade, as if to ask why he hadn’t left at once.
A bitter laugh caught in his throat at the sudden sting of it. Had he truly let himself be drawn in? He laughed at himself and retreated slowly, step by step.
His long legs widened with each pace backward. The sound of his footsteps grew fainter, then vanished entirely beyond the threshold.
Thud. The door closed, and with it came the sense of Tae-o’s complete separation from this place.
Only then did the Emperor’s gaze shift to Sun. A heavy silence settled in, and the atmosphere began to shift subtly.
“Sun.”
The Emperor called to her in a weary voice.
“Yes, Grandfather.”
Sun answered gently, gauging his mood. Fortunately, he appeared tired but not displeased.
“Do you not regret having come before me today?”
Regret? Sun turned the Emperor’s words over in her mind. Yet there was only one answer.
“I don’t regret it.”
Sun could never regret this, not even unto death. She could not simply ignore an accident so strikingly similar to Prince Ui-yeong’s death.
Follow propriety and obey her station? If the world truly demanded that of her, it should not have taken Prince Ui-yeong from her when she was seven years old. Nor should it have let the Lord of Cheongseong die as she did.
Carrying the deaths of two people in her heart, Sun could never withdraw from this matter. And if someone had orchestrated this latest accident, she could not possibly turn away.
The moment the Emperor commanded the Imperial Special Investigation Team to accept her, she had crossed the line drawn before her.
“Good. I’m relieved.”
The Emperor was surprisingly calm. No reproach, no counsel—only a long, searching gaze from eyes weighted with years.
How much time passed? It was when the dawn wind faded from the narrow gaps of Heuijeongdang’s shuttered windows and morning sunlight began to seep through that the Emperor spoke again.
“Sun. You must become Emperor.”
The moment those words reached her ears, Sun swayed violently. It was proof that what she had heard was no hallucination.

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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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