Carrying the Child of the Man Who Killed Me

Chapter 14

The key to avoiding the same mistakes was changing myself. Even though my mind, once clouded by foolishness and near madness, had cleared, I was still powerless in my current state.

I despised myself for lacking the strength or ability to challenge the idea of returning to Seonguk, and I felt pathetic.

Therefore, I had to acquire some kind of skill, no matter the cost. Yeongcheon threw herself into reading, with a particular focus on the properties of various teas and medicines.

The first thing she researched was the tea she had once shared with Ji-hyuk during their previous life—a tea she drank even when he wasn’t around, as a way to remember him.

The Yeoju tree’s fruit, which only grew in the southern part of the continent, was not well-known throughout the Empire.

After several days of searching through the library, she finally found a book that mentioned the fruit.

There is a tree that grows rarely in the southwestern part of the continent. It produces fruit during a time that is slightly cooler than summer but still warmer than autumn. This fruit is known for enhancing stamina and restoring energy, but strangely, it is something that those with a yin constitution should avoid, or, in some cases, something they desperately need.

For those with a yin constitution, eating this fruit causes infertility while consuming it. Therefore, households with a yin member who desire children will avoid this fruit, even during times of famine when food is scarce. On the other hand, families in desperate situations may turn to the fruit to prevent the burden of additional mouths to feed.

In a way, this fruit’s properties make it something that would commonly appear in the palace. In the palace, children hold the same value as power, and removing potential rivals for power in advance would be a strategic move.

However, whether by misfortune or fortune, the fruit seemed almost unknown outside the southern regions of the continent.

“Most in Yeonguk wouldn’t even know about it…” Yeoncheong chuckled as he closed the book. Once again, he likely wouldn’t want children. He might find himself facing this tea once more.

Yeoncheong also didn’t want to long for his love or children in this life. In fact, the thought of having his child made him uncomfortable. However, he didn’t want to face that tea again.

Even if he drank something with the same effect, it wouldn’t matter. But if he had to confront that tea—the dark red one with a slightly deeper hue—he might very well vomit everything in his stomach right then and there.

He still had no idea how he would bring despair upon him, but the most important thing in seeking revenge was survival.

‘I can’t let it show. I’ll stay by his side, be what he wants, and when the time comes, I’ll shatter his life completely.’

To do that, he had to conceal his hostility. Like someone who knew nothing, showing weakness and incompetence, just as he did in his past life, so he would believe he could easily break him.

The biggest reason Yeoncheong had collapsed in his past life was because he loved him—Ji-hyuk. He loved him deeply, and because of that, he was unable to make rational decisions.

‘If I hadn’t, maybe I would have sensed something was wrong. At least… when I was trapped in Wolha Palace.’

Yeoncheong gave a bitter smile. It felt as though the lessons learned had come at an unbearably high cost.

As he continued making his resolutions, time passed quickly. The season of snowflakes was nearing its end, which meant it was almost time for Yeoncheong to depart for Seonguk.

“Yeoncheong, my child.”

This was the second time he had seen his mother cry. Watching her sob as though she were saying goodbye to someone she would never see again would tug at his heart, even if it happened countless times, not just twice.

‘What did I say before? I said I’d invite my mother once I settled in Seonguk.’

It was such a naive and almost foolish thought. This time, Yeoncheong knew that today’s farewell was likely the last time he would see his mother.

“I’ll live well. Or… even if I can’t live well, I’ll survive somehow.”

Yeoncheong said this as he gently took his mother’s hand. After being locked up in Wolha Palace, they had still exchanged letters for some time, so he believed they would have at least that much time again.

“I’ll send letters, so please don’t worry too much. Just focus on yourself, Mother. I’m no longer a child.”

“Still, you’ve only just reached adulthood. How could I think you’re fully grown? Besides, to parents, children are always children, no matter how old they get.”

The Fifth Empress said this, wiping away her tears. Although Yeoncheong was much older than the Fifth Empress had imagined, just as she said, she would always worry about him, no matter his age.

“Your Highness, it’s time to go.”

Yeon called from outside. Yeoncheong’s eyes were filled with tears, but he didn’t want to hide the last face he would see with them.

He swallowed his tears with effort and smiled. As he bid his final farewells and stepped out, he saw a familiar face.

“It takes about a week by carriage to reach Seonguk. If the weather is bad, it may take a bit longer.”

His tone was formal, his face and attitude as rigid as ever, like nothing could get through.

Once again, Jeong Han, the governor of Seonguk, was there to greet him. He was a man Yeoncheong had grown tired of seeing so often in his past life.

“Are you eating well?”

“I’ll make sure to handle it.”

“……”

He wasn’t the type to always give the answers one wanted, but he was the only person in Seonguk who hadn’t looked at him with disdain.

Eyes filled with pity, but looking back, those were probably the most human eyes among all the ones he had encountered there.

‘I once thought it was just because he felt sorry for my situation back then… but now, thinking about it, it might have been more of a pity for a puppet who had been played from the very beginning.’

Yeoncheong thought this to himself with a bitter smile. They weren’t exactly close, but perhaps because he was one of the few who showed any compassion, Yeoncheong felt, if only slightly, a sense of familiarity.

“Please take care of it.”

“Yes. I’ll do everything I can to ensure your journey is comfortable.”

But that was all Yeoncheong could say for now. As he traveled in the carriage, matching his pace with Jeong Han, who was on horseback beside him, he didn’t ask any questions.

Jeong Han, expecting that Yeoncheong might ask him something, was surprised by the silence and the fact that he had to adjust his stride accordingly.

“…If you have any questions about Seonguk or the schedule, please feel free to ask at any time.”

Thinking that Yeoncheong’s silence might be due to nervousness, Jeong Han spoke up, waiting for a response.

However, Yeoncheong didn’t have any questions. This wasn’t his first journey, and although he had spent over three years in confinement, he had lived in Yeonguk’s palace for almost five years.

‘But not asking anything might seem odd too.’

“…What is Seonguk like?”

With that thought, Yeoncheong asked a simple question. Only then did Jeong Han, seemingly relieved to have something to respond to, begin his prepared explanation.

“Compared to Song Empire, it’s lacking in some areas, but the forests are well-maintained, and the climate is generally mild throughout the year, so people from Song Empire often visit for relaxation.”

“Relaxation, huh…”

As Jeong Han mentioned, Seonguk, being in the southern part of the continent, didn’t experience the harsh winter temperatures that the Empire did. It was a place where a variety of plants grew, and flowers could even be found in winter.

However, in his past life, he had only gone on a trip for relaxation once. While Seonguk’s winters were indeed milder than those of the Song Empire, it held no meaning for Yeoncheong, whose health had worsened and who was restricted from leaving the palace.

“If you wish, you could travel frequently.”

“Is that so.”

That probably wouldn’t happen. Yeoncheong gave a bitter smile. Jeong Han, unable to clearly see his face due to the sunlight reflecting off his mocking expression, continued talking a little about Seonguk, but Yeoncheong didn’t pay much attention.

Perhaps because the weather had warmed up, this journey didn’t take longer than originally planned. Before a week had passed, Yeoncheong arrived at the royal palace of Seonguk. As soon as he reached the palace gates, he felt his heart pounding in his chest as though it might explode.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I suppose I was just a little nervous…”

Jeong Han, looking concerned, gently placed a hand on Yeoncheong’s shoulder as he swayed. Yeoncheong, feeling strangely familiar with the kindness, gathered his strength to keep from falling.

He remembered what had happened here before. He would do everything in his power to prevent it from repeating, but life ahead would still be far from easy.

Maybe that’s why his heart raced so fast, almost making it hard to breathe.

‘No, I can’t let this beat me. If I can’t handle this, how can I move on to the next stage? It’s fine. No need to make a big deal out of it.’

“I think resting for a while will help, so there’s no need to worry.”

“Understood. I’ll send for the palace doctor right away, so please rest.”

Yeoncheong lifted his pale face, making an effort to appear composed. It was only the first step, and he couldn’t afford to show any weakness this early.

He got out of the carriage and placed his feet on the ground. Even if he didn’t achieve everything he wanted in this life, he hoped at least to live without regrets.

He hoped to burn everything, leaving nothing behind. With that resolve, Yeoncheong took his first step forward.