Royal Coup d'État - Chapter 41

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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 41
The sound of utensils clattering filled Hyang Won Jeong. In the brief lull of conversation, everyone hurried to resume their postponed meal.
The Empress, who had been sitting rigidly and participating in the discussion, seemed overwhelmed merely by the act of grasping her spoon.
Her arm trembled constantly, and the broth in her utensil dripped back into the bowl. Yet unwilling to show weakness, she forced herself to swallow the meager scraps of food that remained on her spoon, mustering what strength she could.
Sun was not alone in observing her grandmother’s pitiable state. There was also the Elderly Gentleman, who had not spared a glance at the dish before him, fixing his attention solely on his wife’s meal.
Holding a napkin, he hastened to dab away any broth that dribbled, and the moment her throat seemed to strain, he promptly offered her a water glass. His every gesture revealed how great an ordeal it was for the Empress to have come this far.
Sun, who had set down her utensils early, exhaled a shallow breath. She could only hope that this dinner would end without incident, and that the Empress would return safely to her comfortable quarters.
The modestly arranged banquet concluded quickly. The moment the Emperor and Empress set down their utensils entirely, everyone raised their Silver Utensils onto the table as if they had been waiting.
Palace attendants who had been watching rushed in with neat footsteps and skillfully cleared the table. In an instant, the dining surface, once laden with food, was laid with plump fruit and steaming tea.
“Quinces Tea is a particular favorite of Her Majesty’s, is it not? It seems the kitchen took considerable care today.”
Yi Gu watched the steam rising from the teacup and offered his flattery. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he excelled at the visible trappings of social grace more than anyone.
“I instructed the kitchen to prepare whatever tea your mother favors, and they chose Quinces Tea. It is indeed well-suited for someone whose body has grown frail.”
The Emperor raised his hand wordlessly and grasped his teacup. His gesture in lifting a cup smaller than half his palm felt heavier than ever before. As he sipped the tea slowly, wispy steam escaped between his lips and the rim.
“Your Majesty. Do drink it while it is warm. Both Father and the kitchen have taken such care—you ought at least to taste what they have prepared.”
Even Gyeong An, who had refrained from participating in conversation throughout the meal, urged tea upon the Empress. It seemed that his mother’s pallid complexion had caught even the cautious prince’s attention.
Sun confirmed that the Empress, gripping her trembling hands, had barely managed to reach for the teacup, then turned away her gaze.
“With the sudden visit of the British Crown Prince, matters have been in such disarray that I failed to mention it sooner.”
It was precisely when the Empress took a sip of her tea that Yi Gu opened his mouth.
Had he truly been concerned for the Empress, he would never have broached the subject at such a moment. Whether from his son’s inability to suppress his desires, the Empress hastily returned her cup to its place.
Her hands, hurriedly concealed beneath the table, caught Sun’s eye. Plainly, the trembling had grown worse than during the meal. She even clasped her hands together to hide them from Yi Gu’s view, though fortunately her son paid little attention to his mother’s condition.
A weight settled upon Sun’s heart, growing heavier by the moment. This was too great a burden for her elderly grandparents to bear. No matter that they were once the Emperor and Empress who commanded all under heaven—they were now merely grief-stricken parents who had lost two children.
“Have you heard the news from the Jongchin Council?”
Yi Gu placed a piece of fruit into his mouth with his fork as he spoke. Watching only his lips moving, one might have thought they were discussing some trivial family matter, but his eyes held no trace of amusement. They burned with resolution, as though the sting of that gathering—where he had elevated only others and gained nothing himself—weighed upon his mind.
“Since meeting records are always delivered to me by the secretary, I know the general outline. Why do you ask?”
The Emperor replied evenly. Though he perceived that Yi Gu was testing him, he did not shrink in the slightest.
“Surely the proceedings took an unusual turn?”
“Unusual?”
“Commemorating my late brother is important—I understand that much. But determining a successor is likewise a State of Great National Importance, is it not? Especially with Father and Mother’s health continuing to cause concern as it does.”
Yi Gu’s serpentine eyes swept across the Emperor and settled upon the Empress. When the Empress raised her gaze to meet him squarely, he once more donned the mask of a filial son, letting his eyes droop pitifully.
“For the sake of the realm and the imperial house, the Jongchin Council ought to have set a precedent.”
“I confess, I have no idea what you are driving at.”
The Emperor lifted his shoulders with unfeigned indifference.
“Is the Jongchin Council not composed of its own councilors? Regardless of how the proceedings unfolded, you would understand that better than I, being one of those councilors.”
“Father.”
“Would I, in my leisure, have meddled in such council matters? That is for the councilors themselves to manage.”
At the Emperor’s cold tone, Yi Gu faltered momentarily. He certainly knew when to strike and when to withdraw. Sun was contemplating this very thought, her fork still in her mouth.
“I cannot fathom what extraordinary matter transpired in that council to prompt such words from Yi Gu. Very well, Sun. You too are a councilor of the Jongchin Council.”
In an instant, the arrow had turned toward Sun. She reflexively set down the fork she had held in her mouth, drew up the corners of her eyes, and lifted her lips slightly to compose the perfect countenance of imperial nobility, whereupon the Emperor continued his question as if he had been waiting.
“Did something arise during the proceedings?”
“I cannot say what weighs upon my uncle’s mind. The only matters brought before us were those already settled during the meeting—some even concluded by show of hands.”
As Sun replied calmly, Yi Gu’s brow furrowed ominously. He had always despised Sun’s interference in his affairs, no matter the circumstances—even if the Emperor himself had drawn her in.
“Tch. Do not presume to intrude upon the discourse of your elders. What would a young girl know?”
A young girl? Sun covered her mouth with her fist and let out a light laugh. She felt the anxious gazes of her mother and father brush against the corners of her smile.
“Uncle, I have now reached seven and twenty.”
“To me, seven and twenty is no different from seventeen—you are but a bundle of blood.”
The Emperor did not hastily interpose himself against Yi Gu’s callous remark. That laden gaze fixed upon Sun—as though he were appraising her, watching to see how far she could go.
Were she alone with Yi Gu, it would be different. But with the Emperor present, there was little reason to fear. True, the work conducted behind the scenes was often unsavory, and the aftermath could be alarming, yet such situations merely called for alternative methods.
Sun’s eyes, which had been darting rapidly, settled upon Gyeong An seated across from her. Whatever conversation his father was conducting with his grandparents, whatever quarrel he found himself in with his cousin, he paid no mind—merely poking idly at the fruit on his plate with his fork.
“With the consent of myself and my uncle, along with a majority of the Jongchin Council members, we concluded that the period of mourning should be maintained. Yet separate from that decision, there may well be concerns. However, since both my uncle and I are councilors, and voting has already concluded, I felt it improper to raise the matter before Your Majesty.”
As Sun’s words poured forth, Yi Gu’s eyes narrowed to slits. His gaze searched for her meaning, and Sun smiled brightly, openly, in response.
“And now, by fortune, there is one more person present who observed those proceedings.”
“What?”
“Why not ask my brother Gyeong An? He might illuminate what troubles you so.”
Gyeong An, who had been obliviously poking at his fruit with his fork despite the eyes turning toward him, only let out a yelp of pain and finally raised his head after Sun had kicked his shin once more.
The moment Gyeong An realized that every royal gaze in the room had pivoted toward him, his jaw began to fall open slowly.
Unlike his father, Gyeong An was not a contemptible man. Though somewhat lazy, not particularly clever, and devoted to nothing but drinking and music, he had inherited his mother’s nature—dead though she was—and lacked the cruelty or malice of his father.
And it was precisely this gentle disposition of Gyeong An that constituted one of Yi Gu’s few vulnerabilities. Even as he perpetually lamented his son’s inability to stand firmly at his back, some small part of him harbored a reluctant affection, having supported the boy—whose mind could never master classical studies—with both material and moral aid.
The moment the target shifted to Gyeong An, Yi Gu’s face flushed crimson then drained pale.
“Gyeong An is not even a councilor, and he remains nothing but a student.”
“Are you not treating my brother rather too much like a child? Though he has yet to complete his studies, he has already reached thirty years of age.”
Seon laughed brightly and turned the question back on him. Yi Gu stared at her with a look of sheer terror, while Seon wore a cheerful smile.
Caught between them, Gyeong An glanced nervously from one to the other, then abruptly swiveled his head toward the Emperor as if seeking rescue.
The swiftness of the movement—so sharp it seemed his neck might snap—betrayed the desperation behind it.
The Emperor, who had been observing the scene, smiled faintly at his grandson’s gaze. At the signal that he would intervene, Seon naturally fell silent.
“Seon and Gyeong An are hardly children anymore, are they?”
“Father, they understand barely half of how the world works.”
“Gyeong An has attended school long enough that he must have learned something, and Seon has served in office long enough to have observed and mastered a great deal.”
The Emperor spoke lightly.
“I too am curious to hear Gyeong An’s thoughts. As Seon rightly said, the two of them have experienced council debates as councilors, so it would not be fitting for them to offer their opinions to me—but Gyeong An is different.”
“Father!”
“Now, now. I am giving you an opportunity—a chance to receive help from your son.”
Despite the Emperor’s resolute and certain words, Yi Gu could not hide his bewilderment. He knew that Gyeong An could offer him no assistance whatsoever.

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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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