Royal Coup d'État - Chapter 30

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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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Episode 30
The conference was reaching its peak.
On the surface, there was nothing preventing Uigu Daegun’s succession. For everything to flow in its proper course, it was only right that he be recognized as the next Crown Prince according to Imperial Law.
Those who had maintained neutrality until now invoked the Emperor’s will. Because the Crown Prince had no children and the Emperor had neither adopted an heir nor designated a successor, they believed his intentions might lie elsewhere.
Yet the Emperor’s true supporters were gradually acquiescing to Uigu Daegun’s momentum. Even Gongchin Wang and Gyeongchin Wang seemed to subtly favor him, and the imperial clansmen who had stood neutral were visibly conflicted.
Her grip tightened on the Mobile Phone resting on her knee. What was Grandfather thinking? The stage she had arranged to buy time for exposing Uigu Daegun’s crimes was rolling in his favor—that could not happen.
Buzz—
Then a light vibration came from below her lap. The Mobile Phone, which had been silent all this while, finally showed a notification.
She cast her eyes cautiously toward the screen, avoiding the gazes of others. The sender was Elder Brother.
[Arrived at National Institute of Forensic Science. Expected duration: three hours.]
Thump-thump—her heart began to race. If clear evidence emerged from this autopsy alone, she could not only pin down Uigu Daegun but prove every accusation against him.
Three hours until the autopsy. Another hour to return the body.
The moment Uigu Daegun learned that the Crown Prince’s body had left the Funeral Hall, it would all be over.
Not only Tae-o, who had arranged the medical examiner, but she and Elder Brother would face criminal charges and never set foot in the Imperial Palace again.
She composed herself, turned off the Mobile Phone screen, and lifted her head. Fortunately, Uigu Daegun was still boasting, his face unchanged from moments before.
“There have been times when I felt burdened by my position as second in the Succession to the Throne. But if this too is a fate given to me, then it is only right that I should accept it.”
Uigu Daegun’s expression as he spoke seemed reverent.
A man who knew only how to dress his words in gilt. There was one emotion that, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, remained impossible to bury. For her, it was rage.
The duty and responsibility of the imperial clan? Wasn’t that precisely what he held most contempt for? He picked and chose which ceremonial duties to perform, treated the Imperial Household’s laws as jest, and had even tried to sell the Jeongju Mines to foreigners. A shameless creature.
She bit her lip hard and lifted her gaze quietly. Uigu Daegun came into focus—chin thrust forward, preening.
“So. What is your conclusion, Uigu Daegun?”
Gongchin Wang, who had been listening indifferently to all his nonsense, opened his mouth slowly. At his question, Uigu Daegun wrinkled his brow as if recalling the original question posed to him.
“Well, that is to say…”
“Given the Emperor’s health concerns, it would indeed be proper for the succession to be settled quickly. But surely we cannot ignore the Crown Prince’s contributions to the nation thus far, can we?”
At Gongchin Wang’s words, Uigu Daegun blinked rapidly.
“Therefore, it is my opinion that for the time being, we should focus on Mourning rather than on such matters—who to elevate, whom to support, and so forth.”
At Gongchin Wang’s decisive statement, Uigu Daegun’s face hardened like clay. The Crown Prince’s seat, which should fall into his hands immediately, kept slipping through his grasp—he had every reason to feel anxious. Soon enough, Uigu Daegun recovered, his face brightening into an affable smile.
“I would respectfully suggest that Mourning and elevation are not the same thing.”
“In what sense?”
“The Imperial Household needs swift stability. Mourning is an emotional matter, but clarifying the line of Succession to the Throne is a practical concern, is it not? As you said, we cannot disregard the Emperor’s health either.”
Uigu Daegun continued with shameless ease. Whenever he spoke of the Emperor’s health, his face filled with concern and his eyes drooped—he seemed the very picture of filial devotion.
“The longer the vacancy persists, the more unstable the Imperial Household will become, and the nation itself will face prolonged disorder.”
He spoke as if his own Crown Prince Appointment were some monumental duty to the realm. There were voices in agreement this time too, but simultaneously there were those who found his haste distasteful.
“Tsk. Why does he rush so?”
“In any case, his frantic bustling never changes.”
Uigu Daegun seemed to notice the displeased gazes directed at him and fell silent, clearing his throat. During the brief pause in his voice, a murmur of exchanged opinions spread throughout the room.
She tapped her toes lightly against the floor and observed the surroundings.
Not long ago, Uigu Daegun had been praised excessively, but from some point onward, the matter of Crown Prince Appointment had been deferred. The moment he had grown confident he would seize what he wanted, nothing remained in his grasp at all.
Was this the Emperor’s design? She rolled her eyes, then shifted her gaze toward Gongchin Wang.
Ah. What was this? She could not say when it had begun, but Gongchin Wang’s eyes were fixed upon her. His face, still devoid of even a proper smile, was wooden as he spoke.
“We seem to have reached no conclusion. Perhaps we should hold an Unlimited Debate. What say you, Lord of Cheongyang County?”
The question’s arrow turned toward her. In such moments, one must not show weakness. Without panic, she offered a faint smile.
“Your Highness Gongchin Wang speaks rightly. If we cannot easily reach consensus, is it not both the duty and role of the Jongchin Council members to put our heads together and find a better path?”
The other council members nodded in agreement. Uigu Daegun frowned at her intrusion, but after deciding it would ultimately not harm him, he consented to the debate.
Debates in the Jongchin Council proceeded in the form of Unlimited Debate, during which no one could interrupt once a speaker had begun. It was an ideal method to stretch time.
She glanced at the clock reflected in her Mobile Phone screen and exhaled in relief.
“There is not a single member of the imperial clan unfamiliar with Imperial Law Article 2. It clearly states that the throne is inherited by the firstborn son or daughter, and failing such issue, it passes to the second son or second daughter—is that not so?”
The first to speak in the debate that began without pause was Yeongcheong Bujeong.
“Our Imperial Household has a precedent, set decades ago, of breaking this principle by naming our current Emperor—who was then the second son—as Crown Prince. Of course, I harbor no dissatisfaction with his present reign. Yet principles exist to be upheld, do they not? We must not allow another exception to occur as it did then.”
At Yeongcheong Bujeong’s pointed words, voices rose among the members of the Yeon Chinwang Lineage. Most of them harbored resentment that their own fathers, being firstborn sons, had not inherited the throne.
Next came the turn of Yeongui Bujeong, the son of Ikhheung Gun, who had continued to voice discontent over the current Emperor’s succession.
He spent his entire allotted time expounding on the importance of the line of succession, the reasons principles must be followed, and the chaos that would ensue if they were not.
Even in a situation no one could have prepared for in advance, it read like a prepared script—a lengthy oration. Perhaps it meant he had held so much within.
Gongchin Wang watched his nephews’ debate with empty eyes, and the moment their speech ended, he swung the gavel. Now it was the turn of Yeongchang Gun, Gongchin Wang’s own son.
“Looking back on Uiyeong Daegun’s accident, we did not immediately adjust the line of succession after his death. As we are now discussing, we prioritized Mourning at that time.”
In an instant, Uigu Daegun’s expression turned cold. The name of Uiyeong Daegun was scarcely less than forbidden within the Imperial Household. Watching him, she too felt all the blood drain from her body.
“When Uiyeong Daegun met with his accident, my uncle ranked only fourth in the succession. Comparing him to Uiyeong Daegun makes no sense.”
He could not restrain his displeasure and broke into the debate. He even violated the cardinal rule of Unlimited Debate—never to interrupt another’s words.
What was he hiding that made him react so sensitively?
She barely swallowed the impulse to voice a question she had harbored long. It was not yet time.
Uigu Daegun’s remarks were cut short, and the debate continued in turn. As the hours dragged on, the sound of snoring drifted through the spectators’ gallery, punctuated by the faint beeps of mobile phone games.
Two hours, three hours. Time dissolved endlessly, and by the time Uigu Daegun’s plea—which had stretched on for a full hour—finally concluded, four and a half hours had passed since the debate began.
Before the gavel sounded to signal her turn, Seon quickly powered on her Mobile Phone. The blank screen displayed nothing but a notification icon showing no messages.
More time needed? As Seon exhaled slowly and gathered her thoughts, a text from Dong appeared on the screen like a miracle.
Only then did a natural smile bloom across Seon’s lips.
“Since this is my final turn, I’d like to make a proposal.”
Seon looked around at the council members as she spoke. The Jongchin Council numbered ten members including Seon. A third of them belonged to Uigu Daegun’s faction or were loyal servants of the Emperor, while the rest stood in neutral ground.
Yet from the overall tenor of today’s debate alone, she could read the direction it was flowing.
Uigu Daegun would leave empty-handed, exactly as the Emperor wished. The neutral faction, sensing that intent, would follow the Emperor’s will this time as well.
“I think we’ve heard both sides well enough. What if we wrap this up with a vote?”
“……That sounds good.”
When Gongchin Wang, who rarely voiced his opinion, gave his assent, the other council members could not object.
“Let’s settle it by show of hands.”
In response to Seon’s clear voice, hands rose and fell. After six grueling hours with no breaks, the curtain finally descended on the Jongchin Council meeting.

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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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