Royal Coup d'État - Chapter 25

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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 25
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Click.
When the door closed behind her after the meeting with the Crown Princess, Tae-o was waiting in the corridor.
He stood with his back against the wall, arms crossed in that arrogant posture she’d seen before, observing the Security Personnel with eyes as dull as murky water—as if contemplating what to make of this place, which was sparse compared to an ordinary funeral but fortified with meticulous security. The moment she emerged, he slowly straightened, pushing off from the wall.
Though his face betrayed many questions—what had transpired in there, whether things had gone well—Tae-o refrained from speaking first. His lips remained sealed as if glued together, an act of consideration for her.
She glanced at Tae-o, then moved forward. Not many steps. The room adjacent to the Mortuary Chamber she’d just left—the space guarded by two Security Personnel dressed in dark mourning garb.
As Tae-o watched her and quietly followed, the Security Personnel conducted a radio exchange through the Transparent Communicators in their ears, their voices muffled by hands cupped over their mouths as they murmured to someone unseen. They kept stealing glances at the woman standing before them.
“The Consort says you may enter.”
At last, permission was granted. As the Security Personnel stepped aside, the door they’d been concealing came into view.
An Iron Door, deep black and utterly at odds with the pristine white hospital corridor.
The handle turned in the Security Guard’s hand with a heavy click, and the darkness within—even blacker than the door itself—finally revealed itself. That pitch-black interior resembled the throat of Cerberus waiting before the gates of hell.
“We have no record of an entourage.”
The moment she stepped forward as if entranced, a Security Guard’s voice cut through the silence behind her.
She turned slowly, and through her narrowed eyes—dark and settled—she observed the Security Guard with both arms raised to block Tae-o’s passage. She opened her mouth deliberately, without haste.
“I vouch for him.”
“But—”
“What did the Consort tell you?”
At her question, the Security Personnel exchanged glances. From among them, their eyes wary as they alternated between watching her and Tae-o, came a response.
“She instructed us not to prevent his passage within the Mortuary Chamber.”
“Then you need only follow the Consort’s command. This man is tied to my entry here.”
At her firm words, the Security Personnel merely exchanged nervous looks and made no further attempt to stop him.
The arm blocking Tae-o fell away. She turned her gaze toward him.
It was the briefest of moments—not a request for permission, not an invitation to accompany her. Simply a wordless signal: follow.
Tae-o, without answer, trailed after her once more. She stepped through the threshold first, and he followed completely inside. Behind them, the Iron Door closed with a dull, heavy sound.
“What is this place……?”
Once the door had shut, Tae-o surveyed his surroundings and asked. The dimly lit interior contained no furniture whatsoever—only Metal Drawers, two-tiered compartments of cold steel, embedded into the walls.
Their footsteps, their breathing, even the sound of their pupils moving seemed to fill the quiet space.
He opened his eyes narrowly, observing the metal compartments, and once understanding dawned, he closed his mouth.
She paused to steady her breathing, then advanced slowly. The minimal lighting illuminated only her path ahead.
In the frigid, settled air, Tae-o naturally came to a halt one step behind. This was not a place for him to step forward.
Screech.
As she grasped and pulled the handle at the center of the large drawer, an eerie sound emerged.
The grinding metallic shriek made Tae-o, standing behind her, furrow his brow. But she remained more composed than ever, pulling with all her might.
The drawer-like panel opened, revealing a Metal Bed. And the form beneath a White Cloth appeared before them.
“Your Highness.”
She steadied her breathing, then called his name as if expelling the sorrow she’d been holding back. But there was no one left to answer that call.
The Crown Prince. Kinder and more compassionate than anyone, cherished by his family—a man of such integrity who, even while wary of Ui-gu Daegun’s ambitions, chose to trust his younger brother.
Born as the Legitimate Firstborn of the Emperor, living as Crown Prince, wielding all the power within the palace and transforming the very air around him with mere presence.
And yet now he lay in silent repose, without a single word, without a single glance.
“Uncle.”
She reached out her arm. The edge of the White Cloth covering his body brushed her fingertips. Beyond it, a chill seeped into her very bones.
It was a cold and terrible sensation, utterly unlike the warmth of the living.
So he really was gone. Her uncle, departed from this world in such a meaningless way.
She crumpled the edge of the cloth in her hand. The taut fabric began to wrinkle. A fracture had appeared in her own life as well.
“I came too late. I should have come immediately after the accident.”
The voice that emerged was low, each word heavy as stone. She had to summon far more strength than usual to continue speaking.
But no response came, despite her effort. That silence only sharpened the reality of her grief.
“You could have told me beforehand while you were still alive. I scolded you more than once for being too cautious, Uncle.”
Her breath trembled thinly. Her eyes burned. Yet she swallowed the tears that threatened to escape.
“But I’ll do well. I don’t know what you or Grandmother expected of me. Still, I can promise you this.”
She lifted her head, which had been bowed. Fixing her gaze on the man resting peacefully beyond the White Cloth—as if meeting his eyes directly.
“I won’t let what happened to you be buried as an injustice.”
Her voice grew firm.
“No matter what, I will uncover the truth—who did this, and why Your Highness suffered this fate.”
What she spoke now was no mere vow. It was a declaration—a solemn proclamation that she would expose the truth, find light within darkness, and see it through.
She gazed at the White Cloth for a long moment. The one who had crossed the river from which there is no return was not only her dead uncle.
She, too, now had to walk a new path—and perhaps Ui-gu Daegun as well, mocking them from the shadows. They all stood in the same place now.
She offered a brief silent prayer of farewell, then smoothed the wrinkled cloth with care. She spread it flat, adjusted it to fit snugly across his entire form, and slowly pushed the Metal Bed back into the dark cabinet.
She could only hope that in that cold chamber, he would not suffer from the chill.
Sun released her grip on the handle, her eyes blurred with the effort of holding back tears. She took a step back, her vision swimming with the strain.
“Ah.”
Whether from forcing down her sobs or from the failure to numb herself to endless pain, she could not say.
Suddenly, without warning, dizziness swept through her. Her extended foot could not find purchase; her ankle buckled beneath her.
The ungainly twist of her ankle sent Sun’s body lurching forward. In that moment of sway, a dark shadow closed the distance between them with startling speed.
“Careful.”
He had been so quiet she’d nearly forgotten he was there. Now he reached out, steadying her arm with deliberate care. As she slowly regained her balance, he remained at her side, silent and unmoved.
Sun found him strange. When they’d first met, he’d looked at her with such disdain, then later worn an expression of keen amusement, then displayed annoyance, and at other times flashed the sharp eyes of an investigator.
Yet she had seen all those looks before. This gaze now—she could not fathom it. It held neither excess of feeling nor cold mockery. Instead, it was steady as stone, immovable as a pillar meant to bear weight.
“I won’t regret what I declared before the Crown Prince today.”
Sun spoke through a trembling voice. Tae-o nodded wordlessly.
“Will you not regret walking the same path as me?”
“I’m not walking the same path as you, Hyeonju.”
At his words, Sun’s body shook. Her fragile frame trembled with the force of the blow.
Something flickered in Tae-o’s eyes at the sight—a deepening, a shadow of thought. Then, in a voice very low and utterly clear, he added:
“But I believe our direction is the same. And I don’t regret that.”
Sun said nothing in return. Instead, she straightened her posture and stepped back, aligning herself with Tae-o on the same plane.
Together, they looked toward the cabinet where the Crown Prince slept.
Before death that had already claimed another.
And before the threshold of a battle that would soon claim more.

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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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