The 21st Century Grand Grand Duchess in the Royal Academy - Chapter 29

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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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A Twenty-First Century Grand Duchess in the Royal Academy
The Eve of the Storm
Wan sensed that his patience was running dangerously thin. The tasks he had undertaken to help his brother were instead driving him toward the precipice.
“Surely the Crown Princess must be anxious.”
He had even tried indirect refusals when his brother kept delegating authority to him.
“I cannot allow my own son to be crushed beneath the weight of the Royal Family.”
“….”
His brother was resolute. Wan wanted to ask whether it was acceptable to use his younger brother as a shield to protect his son, but he chose silence once more, restraining himself. For he loved his nephew as deeply as his brother loved his own son.
Hwan’s strategy to protect his son extended beyond merely amplifying Wan’s influence. He openly emphasized uncertainty regarding succession, insisting that being the King’s son did not automatically guarantee the throne. He did this knowingly, understanding it would diminish his wife’s authority and that of her family.
When Hwan appointed Yoon—barely three years old—as Crown Prince, it was shocking in every respect. The day after the Royal Secretariat’s official announcement that there would be a ceremony to appoint Yoon as Crown Prince, Hwan erupted in anger as though he knew nothing of it.
He appeared as one who could not remember anything, throwing down the royal decree before the Chief State Councillor and shouting that someone had forged it in his name. Witnessing his brother’s outburst, Wan felt as though he stood in the depths of hell itself.
It was true that he had harbored doubts about appointing Yoon as Crown Prince, but the decree was undoubtedly his brother’s doing. That night, his brother had called him and said, “My son will become King after all.” Though his brother’s voice had sounded sorrowful, the notion that a decree he knew nothing of had been issued was utterly absurd.
After that day, the distance between his brother and the Crown Princess became irreversible, as did the rift between the Central Palace and the Crown Prince Residence. It was because his brother had appointed Wan himself as the Crown Prince’s guardian—an unprecedented royal decree. The Crown Princess, the maternal relatives, and even the Royal Relatives immediately objected, but his brother dismissed all the commotion with the authority of the King’s command.
When his brother threatened to revoke the Crown Prince’s appointment if they did not comply, the Crown Princess relented, imposing the condition that it not be announced to the public. Thus, while the people knew that Yoon had become Crown Prince, they remained unaware that Prince An was his guardian.
Until then, Wan could endure it. Though he had unwillingly become the villain, once his nephew came of age, his role would end—he simply had to wait.
Above all, the guardianship was conditional upon his brother’s absence. He would have no need to intervene unless his brother was away on official business abroad or in poor health.
But as his brother’s condition deteriorated, circumstances spiraled into catastrophe. After the Crown Prince’s appointment, his brother lost faith in himself, and his days of confusing reality with dreams became frequent. Even while awake, he spent most of his time intoxicated.
The Cabinet found Hwan’s state deeply troubling. A twenty-first century Royal Family had to be a symbolic presence that set an example for the people and inspired their pride. It was insufficient to merely appear constantly and demonstrate dedication to the nation—the people’s taxes were being wasted. A solution had to be found.
The pragmatists advocated for Hwan to step down from the throne. There was already an outstanding member of the Royal Family taking his place, so there was no reason to hesitate.
Yet the Royal Family had Yoon, who had legitimately become Crown Prince through proper procedure, and his mother Yoon Irang. Even in the twenty-first century, the Royal Family’s decisions prioritized legitimacy over pragmatism.
The Cabinet had no choice but to propose a compromise: acknowledge that Hwan was ill and appoint Prince An as regent. This would follow the King’s decree, which had explicitly stated that Prince An would serve as the Crown Prince’s guardian during his absence.
Yoon Irang, making no effort to hide her displeasure, accepted the Cabinet’s proposal on the condition that the authority transferred to the Crown Prince Residence be returned to the Central Palace. She also imposed a condition that a six-month grace period be granted before the regency was officially proclaimed.
As the sharp process of coordinating opinions continued, Prince An observed the situation without uttering a word. From the beginning, no one had thought to ask for Prince An’s opinion.
Min Jung-woo finished his overtime at the Party Office and entered the Palace. Having frequented it since his student days, he now exchanged jokes and laughter with the gate commanders.
Finding his way through the labyrinthine Palace was easy. Anhwadang, where Wan resided, was particularly familiar—it was the residence Wan had used since childhood.
Anhwadang now functioned almost as a private office. Official documents meant for the King were directed to Wan, the regent. As a result, Wan spent more time in the Palace than at his private residence.
Finding this suffocating, whenever an opportunity arose, Wan schemed to leave the Palace. The Royal Guard and the Cabinet told him this was impossible.
The security level for a regent differed fundamentally from that of an ordinary prince.
Unable to refute this reasoning, Wan remained in the Palace unless he took official leave. Thus, Min Jung-woo had to visit the Palace rather than the private residence to speak with Wan.
“Prince An, Assemblyman Min Jung-woo has arrived.”
“Let him in.”
Min Jung-woo exchanged a familiar glance with Choi Sanggung as she opened the door and stepped inside.
He was so thoroughly exhausted. Wan’s complexion was haggard as he sat with his head cradled in his hands before his desk.
“Assemblyman Min.”
“Yes, Prince An.”
“I am terribly fatigued at the moment, and I wish to ask you for a favor.”
“Please, go ahead.”
At Min Jung-woo’s ready response, Wan lifted his head swiftly.
“Let me sleep for just two hours.”
“Now?”
“Hey, I’ll tell everyone we’re discussing something really important so no one interrupts us. Just two hours, yeah?”
Min Jung-woo let out a hollow laugh at Wan’s rapid-fire plea and leaned back against the sofa.
“Figured as much. There’s no crisis, yet you insisted I come over.”
“I need a friend.”
Min Jung-woo wasn’t heartless enough to refuse a friend’s request for sleep, so he nodded reluctantly.
Normally, Wan never complained no matter how exhausted he was. The fact that he was asking for this much meant he hadn’t slept in at least four days.
“There’s no one else.”
Wan dragged his heavy body toward the bedroom like a zombie, collapsed onto the bed, and fell asleep instantly. Watching him, Min Jung-woo shook his head. He didn’t even have the presence of mind to turn off the lights.
After turning off the bedroom lights and carefully closing the door, Min Jung-woo looked at the documents Wan had been reviewing. Papers from the Cabinet, files stamped with the Royal Secretariat seal, materials from the Central Palace, the Ministry of Rites, and the Protectorate were piled up like mountains.
“He’s really pushing himself too hard….”
Shaking his head, Min Jung-woo pulled a book from the shelf. It was a novel that turned out to be more engaging than he’d expected.
Just as he was beginning to enjoy this rare moment of leisure, the door to Anhwadang opened without a sound.
Startled, Min Jung-woo stood up awkwardly, and in that moment, Hyun—dressed in the formal uniform of a Royal Advisor—bowed respectfully.
“Minister Min.”
“Oh, well, the Crown Prince is currently….”
Min Jung-woo’s mind raced for an excuse—
“Sleeping, right?”
Hyun smiled knowingly.
“Oh, you knew?”
“Yes, the Crown Prince called for you and said he was just going to get a little rest.”
“Ah.”
Min Jung-woo had seen Hyun when he was very young, and the formal uniform felt strange on him, but Hyun moved through his duties with practiced ease. He transferred the documents Wan had already approved onto a hand cart, organized the remaining ones with red and blue index tabs with perfect efficiency.
“I heard you became an advisor, but seeing it in person is impressive.”
Hyun, who had been focused on his work, waved his hand shyly at Min Jung-woo’s words.
“Come on, impressive? The Crown Prince scolds me all the time.”
Yet the way he hummed to himself showed little difference from when he used to play in the Private Residence gardens.
“Has it been like this constantly?”
“Like what?”
“The Crown Prince barely seems to be sleeping.”
“Ah….”
Hyun’s expression darkened as he nodded weakly.
“The problem isn’t just that there’s no time to sleep. Even when he does sleep, he keeps….”
At that moment, a scream came from inside the bedroom. Startled, Min Jung-woo froze, but Hyun rushed into the bedroom. Through the open doorway, Min Jung-woo could see Wan, his face ashen. His black hair was soaked with sweat.

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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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