Royal Coup d'État - Chapter 9

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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 9
The Conference Room emptied like a retreating tide. Even Yun, who’d stayed behind to the last with some final point to make, was pulled out by Tae O’s hand, and at last there was silence—true solitude.
In the darkened room, only the screen’s blue glow flickered. The restless afterimage blurred her vision, but her mind remained sharp.
This meeting was never meant to unearth the truth. With shoddy evidence and not even a police officer’s testimony to speak of, the intent was nakedly clear—to end this as quickly as possible.
“Sigh…”
Sun rose from her seat with a deep breath. They’d agreed on a twenty-minute break, and she meant to step outside and catch some fresh air.
The old metal door creaked as she pulled it open, revealing Seok Chul leaning against the hallway wall, scrolling through a tablet. At the sound, he lifted his head and hurried toward her, straightening his posture.
“Your Highness.”
“Now I understand why Grandfather sent me here.”
“It seems the meeting hasn’t gone well, Your Highness.”
Sun smiled weakly, her shoulders sagging.
The Emperor had apparently foreseen exactly how this investigation would unfold.
But what could she possibly do? There was a fundamental flaw in the premise—what her eyes, those of a non-expert, could see. They had no intention of investigating at all. They weren’t even pretending to be professionals about it.
“It seems Prince Uigu hasn’t limited his reach to just the Saheonbu.”
“His frequent visits to the Police Department are well-known, Your Highness. They say royals who cause trouble contact Prince Uigu first precisely because he has so many connections there.”
“Even so, I didn’t expect them to be this brazen.”
Sun exhaled, placing her hands on her hips.
The subject of this investigation was the Crown Prince. Though the Imperial Family’s standing had waned and voices of those who despised the palace had grown louder, the Crown Prince himself remained quite popular.
Despite having come close to death in a serious accident, this attitude didn’t align with public sentiment at all.
If it later became known that the investigation had proceeded so carelessly, those conducting it would be the ones to suffer.
Yet they proceeded anyway—which meant there was clear intent behind it. And the only person who benefited from the Crown Prince’s accident being resolved quickly was one man.
Her head grew heavier with complexity. She could barely make her voice heard, but that didn’t translate to real influence.
According to the Saheonbu, the police handled the overall investigation process, which meant losing a power struggle would be the end of it.
“I need to clear my head.”
“I’ll escort you.”
“No. I’ll go alone.”
Seok Chul’s brow furrowed immediately at her words.
“This isn’t a place you know well, Your Highness.”
“That’s exactly why it’s fine.”
Sun stretched, twisting her upper body lightly as if working out the stiffness. Dissatisfaction flickered across Seok Chul’s face at her seemingly carefree demeanor.
“Don’t worry, Seok Chul.”
“But Your Highness, there’s a possibility someone attempted to assassinate the Crown Prince—”
“Which is precisely why there’s nothing to worry about here.”
Sun swept her cold gaze down the empty hallway as she spoke.
“If something happens to His Highness and then something happens to me right after, whoever orchestrated this won’t be able to cover it up so easily next time.”
Seok Chul’s mouth opened as if to protest, his eyes still full of reluctance.
“Just take the elevator straight up to the rooftop. I doubt CCTV conveniently malfunctions around here.”
Even as she said it, Sun understood Seok Chul’s concern. She didn’t resist his insistence on at least walking her to the elevator.
He pressed the button first, his eyes tracking the changing numbers—first floor, second floor—as he continued to voice his worries.
Ding.
Sun was nodding along half-heartedly when the arrival chime sounded and the doors slid open. Relief washed over her. What she desperately needed was time alone.
“Oh.”
But fate was not in her favor. The elevator was not empty.
She gathered the expression and posture that had loosened during her conversation with Seok Chul. Sun forced a smile, raising the corners of her mouth, and stepped into the elevator with a slight bow.
Through the closing gap, she glimpsed Seok Chul’s protesting mouth, but it vanished instantly as the doors shut with ruthless finality.
“Which floor, Your Highness?”
She’d pressed the close button without a word in front of Seok Chul. Now, with only two of them in the elevator, Tae O addressed her in a clipped tone.
Sun glanced at the illuminated floor panel, then gazed ahead as she answered.
“It seems we’re headed the same way.”
“Ah.”
Tae O also saw the red light on the rooftop level and answered briefly.
It was suffocatingly awkward. The wait for the elevator to ascend from the first to the third floor had seemed instantaneous, but the journey to the sixteenth-floor rooftop felt trapped in some warped dimension of time.
Of all things, why did the rooftop have to be on the sixteenth floor? The gauge had only changed to six, and that felt unjust.
“How far do you intend to take this?”
When the number shifted from six to seven, Tae O spoke first. Sun turned her head slowly to look at him. His jaw remained rigid and obstinate, and it caught her eye.
How far do you intend to take this? She felt a deeper question beneath his obvious one about the investigation.
Wasn’t an investigation meant to be concluded only when all suspicions were resolved? Antipathy surged from the depths of her heart. It felt like a declaration that they wouldn’t conduct a proper investigation at all, and that disturbed her.
Sun fixed her gaze on the closed elevator doors again. Why must more people board this elevator?
“I’m not sure.”
When the elevator reached the eighth floor, Sun finally spoke. Tae O didn’t so much as twitch a finger at whatever response she might give.
“How far must I go before I stop making you uncomfortable, Detective Tae?”
At this question, Tae O drew in a sharp breath. It was a palpable discomfort, felt even without meeting his gaze.
The moment didn’t stretch long. Though he fiddled with his fists and cleared his throat, revealing his unease, he seemed to be making an effort not to show it.
“I’m a detective. When I can help the victim’s family find the answers they’re looking for, there’s a certain satisfaction in that. But that’s not always possible.”
Tae O continued slowly.
“Your effort is deeply appreciated, but.”
……
“You can already imagine how this investigation will conclude if things continue as they are.”
Helplessness flooded through Seok Chul like an elevator that couldn’t be stopped mid-descent once the button was pressed. A desperate sense of being unable to jump clear, even if he wanted to.
Seok Chul understood which direction this investigation was being steered. He wanted somehow to steer it back to course, but everything felt intractable. Even without Tae O deliberately pressing on his wounds, his head was already pounding.
To swallow the roiling in his stomach, Seok Chul forced his smile wider, letting the curve of his lips mask the turmoil underneath.
“Based solely on the evidence we reviewed in the conference room moments ago, it’s difficult to conclude there’s any criminal circumstance beyond a mere accident.”
The elevator finally passed the tenth floor. Seok Chul glanced at the numbers, then lowered his gaze.
His black patent leather shoes gleamed. As he stared at the polished toe, his mind drifted to his grandfather lying in the hospital, clinging to life with the help of an oxygen respirator, barely breathing.
‘What would Grandfather have done?’
Since childhood, his grandfather would sit Seok Chul on his knee and tell him stories.
How he’d handled those particular royals and politicians who never listened, how he’d acted in situations like this one—boxed in from all sides, with seemingly no answer to be found.
Without evidence to pinpoint a crime, was this really just an unlucky traffic accident?
Seok Chul bit his lip slightly. No. If that were the case, the Emperor wouldn’t have sent him here. And the CCTV gaps, the other driver’s sudden appearance—these impossible coincidences repeating themselves felt far too contrived.
If there’s no evidence. If his grandfather’s accident is meant to be buried this way.
“Then I need to find decisive evidence that can overturn this situation.”
Seok Chul murmured the words almost to himself. Tae O merely raised his eyebrows, saying nothing.
“Decisive evidence, you say…….”
As Seok Chul turned the thought over in his mind, a voice from not long ago flickered through his memory.
“An autopsy.”
At Seok Chul’s words, Tae O turned his head. Their eyes met at last in the narrow elevator space. The expression on Tae O’s face was peculiar as he looked into Seok Chul’s gleaming gaze.
“You said only the other driver would undergo an autopsy.”
“A Court Administration official cannot be granted an autopsy warrant in the first place.”
Tae O scratched his head as he spoke, a note of frustration evident in his tone.
“Do you think we want to autopsy only the other driver? How are we supposed to get permission for an autopsy of that Court Administration chauffeur? It’s impossible.”
“It would be, for you.”
Tae O gave a hollow laugh at the calm reply, pushing back.
“What makes you different? Honestly, unless you’re the Emperor or the Crown Prince, to my eyes royal blood flowing through ordinary veins isn’t any different from anyone else’s.”
“Perhaps you want to call me a powerless royal, and that’s true enough, but Detective Tae and I are still different.”
The calmer Seok Chul’s replies became, the more agitated Tae O seemed to grow. Whether it was because Seok Chul, whom he’d thought slightly different from other royals, was putting on airs like some haughty crane, or because he was shaken in an unexpected way—neither could say for certain.
“So what makes the young lady of the noble Prince Uigu’s house so different?”
“Simple. At the very least, I can see the Emperor whenever I wish.”
In that moment, with a soft ding, the elevator came to a halt.
“If I obtain that warrant—can you then make a choice, Detective?”
“What choice are you talking about?”
Tae O demanded sharply. Seok Chul answered slowly, each word measured.
“If the Crown Prince were to also pass away, you could conduct an autopsy not just on the Court Administration chauffeur, but on him as well.”
“As if that’s even possible……! And what kind of choice would that be for me?”
“A choice to find at least a fragment of the truth.”
“A choice to find at least a fragment of the truth.”
The doors opened and an escape route appeared, yet neither of them looked away first. A gaze of mutual wariness and caution hung tangled in the cramped space.

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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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