Royal Coup d'État - Chapter 58

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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 58
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“Preparations are complete.”
The lady-in-waiting in charge of grooming withdrew her hands. In the mirror, Seon’s complexion appeared pallid.
For the first time since the social media uproar, all members of the royal family would appear before the cameras. Thinking of how many articles had covered live broadcasts since that day, Seon had no choice but to attend to her appearance.
Before people who had thought only of an aging heir, a young and beautiful new candidate had emerged. It was natural that attention would converge.
Seon, dressed in coarse mourning attire, touched her own skin. She deliberately made her complexion appear worse, lest her pale and soft skin look too lovely. She adjusted her lip color with precision—not so wan as to appear pitiful, yet entirely drained of bloom.
She knew it was nothing but theater, but everyone else would have prepared at least this much of a performance. She could not afford to fall behind.
“Let’s go.”
Seon, dressed in hemp-woven mourning attire, and Seok-chul, immaculate in a black suit, left their quarters.
Today was finally the day the remains of her paternal uncle would be moved to the tomb. Once the site for him—to whom the Posthumous Name of the Crown Prince had been granted—was confirmed, the Departure of the Deceased, which had been deferred until now, was at last carried out.
The ceremonial farewell of the coffin departing for the burial grounds was the first in forty years since the State Funeral of the Great Emperor and Jinseong Empress. With cameras and public attention certain to converge, not only the royal family but also the Royal Household Administration, police, and military were all in a state of extreme vigilance.
Seon’s footsteps quickened as she made her way toward Seongjeong Hall in Changdeok Palace.
The journey would begin by receiving the Tablet of the Crown Prince enshrined there, meeting his remains at Hyeobyang Gate, departing through the eastern gate of Donhwa Gate, and proceeding to Insan Site.
With massive crowds expected to gather all the way to the burial grounds, to avoid chaos only those royal family members belonging to Dogam would accompany beyond Donhwa Gate. This created the risk that Uijeong Daegun would be continuously featured in the press, but if she could put on a spectacle grand enough to bury that narrative entirely, all would be well.
“Oh, my!”
“Brother!”
As they drew closer to Seongjeong Hall, the sound of weeping grew louder. There was a transparent reason: press access had been permitted from Seongjeong Hall onward.
Seok-chul let out a scoff.
“They never fail to meet expectations, do they?”
Though the scene was simple—only a few journalists with palace access and Royal Household Administration photographers—the royal family members wailed with ostentatious devotion. It was earnest theater.
Seon drew one long breath and advanced toward them. What word could describe this if not a battlefield?
“Lady Cheongyang.”
The first to greet her was the Crown Prince’s widow.
She who would now be called Deok-bi bore the marks of someone far more gaunt and exhausted than when last seen. Supported by a lady-in-waiting, barely standing, Deok-bi beckoned toward Seon.
“Remain at my side.”
Deok-bi spoke in a voice so frail it seemed it might tear.
Unlike the core of her position, those stationed at the periphery wailed even as their eyes gleamed with something fearsome.
The gazes fixed upon Seon as she claimed the spot beside Deok-bi were sharp with what might have been jealousy—cutting and venomous.
Seon pretended not to notice the eyes upon her and took hold of Deok-bi’s hand.
The cold, skeletal hand fell into her palm.
“Are you well?”
Deok-bi gave a small shake of her head.
At that, Seon said nothing and stepped closer, standing firm beside her.
The others did nothing but wail and watch the two women warily; none approached. They made a commotion only by checking camera positions and turning their bodies toward the journalists.
Seon’s lips twisted slightly before relaxing.
When the Crown Prince lived, they moved as though dead. How predictably galling they were.
“Lady Cheongyang.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
While Seon observed them, Deok-bi spoke in a hushed voice. Seon bowed quickly; then Deok-bi continued, her voice even lower.
“Support me.”
“Pardon?”
Before the words had even finished, Deok-bi staggered dramatically. Her legs buckled, her ankles twisted, her knees bent. As her body pitched forward, Seon reflexively seized Deok-bi’s forearm and pulled.
Hm?
For someone exerting so little strength, Deok-bi regained her balance far too easily. Seon knew then that it had been deliberate. The burst of camera flashes that followed only confirmed it.
In the best position to be captured by the cameras, near the widow of the deceased Crown Prince, most visible to the public eye, the actions of Seon and Deok-bi were instantly preserved in photographs.
At the clamor of clicking shutters, Seon blinked slowly. Deok-bi, her lips pressed firmly closed, merely straightened her posture.
“Your Highness, are you unwell?”
Someone approached with exaggerated alarm. But as Deok-bi did not grant them so much as a glance, they dared not draw closer. The only one she had allowed at her side was Seon. It was no different from a public declaration of endorsement.
Seon, who had briefly gauged the room, fixed her gaze forward. Speaking in an even tone, as though unmindful of the cameras, she addressed Deok-bi.
“Your Highness must be greatly fatigued. I would be grateful if you would grant us some distance.”
The expressions of the royal family members watching hardened visibly.
Seon was young, and though of the direct line, held no high rank. She was not normally one to give them direction.
These were people who had subtly absented themselves from duties and felt no remorse even when Seon was dispatched as their replacement. Yet now, standing beside Deok-bi, there was nothing they could do.
“The Emperor and Empress approach.”
As the commotion subsided, the Emperor and Empress emerged from Daejo Hall.
The Emperor, whose leg had limped since the war and grown more infirm with age, now leaned upon a cane. The Empress appeared, flanked on both sides by attendants, accepting their support.
They too were aging, and their remaining time was not abundant. Seon’s heart grew heavy.
“Your Majesty.”
All those gathered bowed deeply toward the Emperor and Empress.
The Emperor and Empress, dressed in mourning attire, bore expressions heavier and darker than ever before. This was already the second child they were sending to the grave, yet it was a sorrow one could never grow accustomed to. Without exchanging greetings with anyone, the two of them joined the funeral procession.
“Let us begin.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
At the Emperor’s signal, Uijeong Daegun, holding the Tablet, departed at the front of the column. Tense from the barrage of cameras trained on him since the illegitimate child scandal, he nonetheless advanced with measured, deliberate steps.
As Sun moved forward in line with the others, Deok-bi seized her hand with surprising strength—a grip that seemed to belong to someone far more substantial than the skeletal, thorn-thin arm that delivered it. Sun faltered and turned to look at her.
“Sun.”
“Your Highness?”
“You must be resolute.”
Deok-bi murmured the words quickly, as if casting a spell, and without pause for reflection, she adjusted her pace and moved forward, drawing the hesitant Sun along by her delicate hand. Sun blinked slowly, turning over the meaning of those words as she was pulled onward.
Be resolute. Suddenly, here? Now?
Each step felt leaden. As she glimpsed Uigu Daegun from the corner of her right eye, Sun’s thoughts crystallized.
‘There’s something more to this.’
Deok-bi was a warm person. She was precisely the sort who might easily offer comfort and encouragement to console a nephew—praised by everyone for her gentleness and kindness.
And yet she too was of the imperial blood. She had lived as Crown Princess, and having endured the early loss of a child, her eye for reading situations was sharp and sure. There would be no reason for such a woman to say such words to Sun in a moment like this without purpose.
It must have been a hint—a signal from her to prepare herself, to ready her heart for what was to come.
Whether Deok-bi or the Emperor had arranged it, the meaning was unmistakable: something shocking was about to unfold.
Sun swallowed hard and fixed her gaze ahead. Whatever bombshell was coming, she would not flinch.
The procession departed from Seongjeong Hall, passed through Hyeobyang Gate, and moved slowly toward Donhwa Gate. The flags bearing the Crown Prince’s insignia rippled heavily in the wind.
In an atmosphere where no one dared speak carelessly, only the sound of footsteps and the wailing of mourners stretched onward. Whether it was mere theater or something they wished to capture for posterity, flashbulbs erupted with every few steps.
The roof of Donhwa Gate came gradually into view. Through the widely open gates, the murmur of citizens beyond the barriers began to rise and swell.
On both sides of the controlled road, crowds of people had gathered.
Mourners who had dressed deliberately in black to pay their respects. Elderly men and women holding Taegeuk Flags and Imperial Seals, tears streaming down their faces, and young people with phones held high, their mouths moving rapidly as if broadcasting live.
As the procession drew closer to Donhwa Gate, the number of people visible began to increase noticeably.
Sun drew a short breath.
“Your Highness the Crown Prince!”
“Oh, my brother!”
As the watching eyes multiplied, the voices of the imperial family swelled to a piercing crescendo.
In the vast space before Donhwa Gate, where the funeral procession was already arranged, men bearing the coffin containing the Crown Prince’s body were visible.
A military band, an honor guard, troops to escort the coffin, and Royal Household Administration officials to oversee the state funeral—all preparations were complete.
“Your Majesty. This way, please.”
The Minister of the Royal Household Administration approached the Emperor carefully and gestured toward a path.
As he led the Emperor toward a small platform erected beside the funeral procession, the imperial family took their places in sequence behind the platform. Sun felt the cameras move in two directions—tracking her as she stood with Deok-bi, and tracking Uigu Daegun at the center.
As the Emperor slowly ascended the platform, hundreds of cameras arrayed outside Donhwa Gate swiveled toward him in unison. Red indicator lights for live broadcast flickered on in succession, and citizens’ phones began turning to capture the Emperor.
Yet through it all, the Emperor gazed calmly at the coffin. His firmly pressed lips trembled slightly. The anguished face of a father who had sent two children before him flashed across his features.
But the expression that followed was that of the grandfather—the sovereign whom Sun held most dear.

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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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