The 21st Century Grand Grand Duchess in the Royal Academy - Chapter 8

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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
A Royal Wedding
Irang carefully hung the white jeogori on its rack. As the memory of the reins’ texture lingered in her palm, she savored the subtle quickening of her own heartbeat.
Having learned composure from earliest childhood, I could only be turbulent atop a horse. My hair disheveled by the wind, my breath ragged by the pull of the reins—that was all.
That was why I loved horseback riding. The exhilaration of being allowed to fall apart, even for a moment, was as beautiful as the joy of playing the piano.
But only that far. No matter how much I wanted to ride faster or win more decisively, I had to restrain myself.
‘Never reveal what you desire.’
It was my father’s long-standing teaching. The most frightening person in the world is one who wants nothing. So no matter what you desire, never let it show. And so I always wore a composed expression, like someone who wanted nothing at all.
“Did you see Sung Hee-joo earlier?”
As I stepped into the lounge, I heard the name that had dominated conversation throughout the friendly match.
“Sung Hee-joo?”
“Yeah, she was practicing relentlessly at dawn, and sure enough, she received the Eosa Flower.”
“She’s diligent.”
I gave an adequate response and settled onto the sofa, opening my book. It was my way of signaling I didn’t wish to hear more. I couldn’t fathom why I should listen to gossip about a commoner girl of illegitimate birth. Apparently she possessed some decent talent, but she seemed to be running about recklessly, banking everything on that single ability.
The rumors that reached me whenever there was an opportunity were tiresome. One day she’d quarreled with someone. Another day she’d made someone cry. Yet another day she’d won again. I was weary of such tales.
Pretending to concentrate on my book, I recalled a conversation with my father from days ago.
‘You must become the Crown Princess.’
Those were his words as he handed me a photograph of the Crown Prince. The Royal Family was preparing for the Crown Prince’s wedding, and I was to become his bride. And thus, in time, I would also become the Queen of this nation.
Since my father’s words were not a question, neither did I offer a response. I was well aware that refusal was not an option.
Nor did I particularly wish to refuse. I had anticipated such a day would eventually come, and imagining myself as Queen was not difficult. Rather, it was harder to envision myself as anything other than a Queen.
In childhood, I had once dreamed of becoming a pianist… but dreams were merely dreams.
“I heard the news. That you received the Eosa Flower.”
“It is hardly a talent worth boasting of.”
I set down my teacup as I spoke. Since my first audience with the Crown Prince at his birthday celebration, I had visited the East Palace roughly once a week. The adults believed that familiarity might breed affection.
Even if affection did not bloom, there was no harm in it. When the state wedding eventually took place, I would simply package these tedious hours together as a “courtship.”
“Do you enjoy horseback riding, Your Highness?”
“I do not.”
At his straightforward answer, I nodded. He was two years my senior and possessed a somewhat indifferent temperament. He listened earnestly to whatever one said, yet showed no genuine interest in it. As though he had no time to concern himself with such trivial matters.
I harbored no resentment. His indifference was proof that he was neither particular nor, in his own way, ungracious. While I did think our married life would be tedious, I had never harbored expectations that it would be interesting, so I felt no great loss.
“Ah, my younger brother does enjoy it.”
“Pardon?”
“Horseback riding, that is.”
“I see.”
“He enjoys animals and exertion alike.”
Warmth crept into the Crown Prince’s otherwise monotone voice. The same occurred when Prince An spoke of his older brother.
“I understand you are acquainted with my younger brother.”
“We are classmates, so we often attend the same lessons.”
“Did you not resent it?”
“Resent what?”
“Our marriage. That I did not inform you beforehand—he was quite upset about it.”
He spoke with a smile playing at his lips, and in that moment, I truly grasped that he and Prince An were brothers. Apart from their considerable height and build, I’d thought them dissimilar—yet the mischievous glint in his expression unmistakably recalled Prince An.
“No such thing has occurred.”
“I see.”
“His Majesty is not one to display emotion over personal matters.”
The Crown Prince’s expression grew contemplative. His silence stretched long as he tilted his head, as though wrestling with some thought. Then, abruptly—
“Now I understand why Mother chose you.”
“I beg your pardon…?”
“You distinguish between what should be said and what should remain unspoken.”
“….”
Beneath his gentle tone lay an edge. I stiffened, wondering if I’d been too cautious with my words—
“That was a compliment.”
He added this with deliberate care.
“Neither my brother nor I possess such restraint.”
His addendum carried its own subtle sting. A faint shame crept over me. Yet the Crown Prince’s gaze remained steady and impassive, as though he perceived my discomfort but remained utterly indifferent to it.
It was that day I first understood how cruelty could wear the mask of indifference.
Wan trudged along with heavy steps, having been summoned to Mother again and thoroughly scolded. What had provoked her anger remained a mystery—she’d spoken at length, but he’d been too preoccupied studying the patterns on the Throne Hall floor to listen properly.
As Wan walked, tapping the earthen ground absently, a familiar silhouette caught his eye.
“Yoon Irang?”
The figure standing beside the Palace Pond, with Bukak Mountain reflected in its waters, was unmistakable. She was one of the few classmates he’d treated with relative ease—but since hearing she was to become his brother’s match, their interactions had grown awkward. He’d intended to simply pass by—
“What’s she moping about now.”
Her melancholy expression gave him pause. He clicked his tongue and quickened his stride, autumn leaves at their crimson peak trembling above his head.
“What occupies your thoughts so deeply?”
“Ah!”
Startled, Yoon Irang let out a cry and blinked her large eyes. Apparently she’d been so absorbed she hadn’t sensed his approach, despite him making no effort to mask his footsteps.
“You mustn’t appear so suddenly.”
“My apologies.”
Wan offered a perfunctory apology while glancing at the attendants from the East Palace standing behind Yoon Irang.
“You came to visit my brother?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Was it an enjoyable visit?”
“Indeed it was, Your Highness.”
“Is that so…?”
Wan’s eyes narrowed skeptically as he tilted his head. His lips curved at an angle and his cheeks rounded with a smile—he was clearly in the mood to tease.
“Park Sanggung.”
Wan lowered his voice as he addressed the East Palace attendant.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I shall personally escort Miss Yoon to the Palace Gate, so you may return to the East Palace now.”
“Your Highness? No, I must—”
“Do you doubt I can find my way?”
“That is not my concern, Your Highness….”
With victory in his grasp, Wan turned to Irang with a stern expression and a meaningful glance. To those unfamiliar with him, it might have appeared quite dignified, but Irang had to exert every ounce of her composure to suppress her laughter.
Upon entering the Western Annex, Irang’s eyes lit up. There stood a grand piano—something she never would have expected to find in the Palace—displaying its sleek form with quiet elegance.
“Has this been tuned?”
Dropping her formal tone, she asked, and Wan replied with uncertain conviction.
“My brother takes lessons, so it should be tuned.”
“Your Highness takes piano lessons?”
“He does take them.”
“He does take them?”
“But he has no talent for it.”
Irang stifled a laugh and settled herself before the piano. Wan, observing her seeking permission with a glance, nodded and took his seat on a stool beside the instrument, preparing himself to listen. Only then did Irang’s careful fingers draw forth a beautiful melody.
As the brief performance concluded, Wan spoke lightly.
“Are you truly content?”
“Content with what?”
“Marrying into the Royal Family.”
At her questioning gaze, Wan shrugged.
“The state marriage is scheduled for next year, isn’t it? You’ll only be twenty—what a waste.”
“Does my opinion matter?”
At those words, Wan’s brow furrowed in irritation.
“You and my brother say the exact same thing.”
“Pardon?”
“I simply wish for my brother to be happy. And for you as well.”
“….”
Irang found herself at a loss for words, recalling her father’s admonition—that ancient teaching to never reveal one’s true desires. And so Irang—
“In a royal marriage, is there truly room for happiness?”
She answered with the indifference of one who wanted no such thing.

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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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