Hyeok, emboldened by his perceived success, clung to Kyeong'ui's side throughout the journey back to the encampment, his hands casually brushing against her shoulder and arm. Normally, she would have swatted him away, but today, despite her simmering annoyance, she found herself unable to resist his touch. Back in her tent, however, she couldn't hide her agitation. Hongyoo, sensing her distress, watched her with a worried frown.

  Kyeong'ui tore off her outer robe, flinging it onto the bed before collapsing onto the cushions. She couldn't imagine her parents, the king and queen, engaging in such a mundane act as copulation. The thought of them gazing at each other with love, their bodies entwined in passion, was absurd. Have they been as miserable as I am? The thought of her parents' loveless marriage, and the prospect of her own with Hyeok, filled her with a deep sadness.

  Hongyoo, seated at the table, watched her with concern. Kyeong'ui, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, suddenly felt suffocated. She jumped to her feet.

  "Who's there?" she called out sharply.

  A soldier hurried into the tent. "You called, Your Highness?"

  "Clear the area," Kyeong'ui commanded. "No one within fifty paces. I need to speak with the Royal Attendant. Anyone who disobeys will be punished."

  "Yes, Your Highness."

  The soldier bowed and left, the sound of his footsteps fading as he relayed her orders. Hongyoo, though worried that her outburst might attract unwanted attention, remained silent. An awkward silence filled the tent.

  "What's wrong?" Hongyoo finally asked.

  Kyeong'ui didn't answer. Hongyoo, seeing the darkness in her eyes, assumed something had transpired between her and Hyeok.

  "I could kill that idiot," Kyeong'ui finally spat.

  She clenched her fist, her knuckles white. Hongyoo's brow furrowed. "What happened?"

  Kyeong'ui avoided his gaze.

  "Did he touch you?" Hongyoo asked.

  "He's my betrothed," Kyeong'ui retorted. "He can do whatever he pleases."

  Hongyoo crossed his arms, his expression hardening. Kyeong'ui, seeing the anger in his eyes, regretted her outburst. She approached him from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist, her face buried in his back.

  "Don't get any ideas," she murmured. "It wasn't anything serious."

  Hongyoo's expression softened, his voice regaining its usual warmth. "You'll get used to it," he said gently. "And you have to."

  Kyeong'ui's hand, which had been gently stroking his back, stilled. She released him and turned to face him.

  "Is that all you have to say?" she asked sharply.

  Hongyoo met her gaze, offering no response. Kyeong'ui flinched under his reproachful stare, resentment stinging her, and Hongyoo saw the bitterness lurking beneath her facade. Hongyoo reached out and pulled her close.

  "I never intended to monopolize you," Hongyoo said. "I know that's not possible. Don't feel sorry for me. Even if you were to fall for him, I would never leave your side. But you must try. Right now, keeping him close is more important than keeping me close. It pains me to say this, but it's the truth."

  Kyeong'ui's voice cracked. "I am trying," she insisted. "That's why I went with him today. But I can't do it. I can't bear the thought of sharing my bed with him, of bearing his children. It makes me sick. I could barely tolerate him today."

  "There's nothing I can do," Hongyoo said. He gently stroked her hair.

  Kyeong'ui looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. She reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. He stumbled back, falling onto the bed, her weight pressing him down. Despite the sudden intimacy, Hongyoo hesitated.

  "This is dangerous," he murmured.

  "I don't care," Kyeong'ui replied, her voice a desperate whisper.

  She kissed him, her passion a desperate attempt to forget her troubles. Hongyoo, though reluctant, couldn't resist her. They clung to each other, their bodies entwined, their faint moans muffled by the thick tent walls. The tension, the forbidden nature of their encounter, only heightened their desire. Hongyoo rolled her over, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his lips finding hers. He kissed her deeply, his body pressed against hers. Kyeong'ui, lost in the moment, welcomed his touch, the familiar ache a comfort in this unfamiliar world.

  When their passion subsided, Hongyoo's lips trailed down her neck, his voice a low murmur against her skin. "You've been using the perfumed oil from the Myeonghyeons," he observed. "You seem to like it."

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  "It was a gift," Kyeong'ui replied. "I had to show my appreciation."

  "They said they would arrive this afternoon," Hongyoo mused. "They should be here soon. You should prepare."

  Kyeong'ui wrapped her legs around his waist, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Should we send them away and spend the night together?" she teased.

  Hongyoo chuckled, his thumb gently tracing her lips. "We can't. I'm still worried. I'll help you get ready."

  ──────────

  Though he had arrived earlier than the appointed time, Myeonghyeon Ryang waited for quite a while outside Princess Kyeong'ui's tent. The guards, who usually would have informed the princess of his arrival, remained motionless. He was beginning to consider returning to the city when Hongyoo appeared. Hongyoo approached with a polite bow, which Ryang returned.

  "It seems your sister couldn't join us today," Hongyoo remarked.

  "She had urgent business to attend to," Ryang replied smoothly.

  "How long have you been waiting?"

  "Not long. The guards informed me that you were in a meeting with the princess."

  Hongyoo smiled and gestured towards the tent. "The meeting has concluded. You may enter. However, the princess is not in the best of moods today, so I suggest you choose your words carefully."

  Hongyoo's smile, despite its warmth, always made Ryang uneasy. Kyeong'ui, however, greeted him with a cheerful smile, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she listened to his stories about the Azure Scripture and Birahng. Today, Ryang focused on the history of the Celestrial Scions, but his explanations seemed to confuse her.

  "So, once again, what happened?" Kyeong'ui asked, her brow furrowed.

  "In the beginning, there was Seonjon(先存)," Ryang explained. "And Sahngjon was created by his hand. But do not misunderstand their relationship as that of father and son. Though Sahngjon was brought into being by Seonjon, he has always existed within this world. Seonjon merely gave him form."

  "And Sahngjon created the Scions?" Kyeong'ui clarified.

  "But the Scions are not merely creations of Sahngjon or Seonjon," Ryang said. "They, too, have existed since the beginning. They are simply unawakened. They are on a journey to become like Sahngjon and Seonjon. Therefore, the true path for the Scions is to seek enlightenment, to reach the divine light of truth, which is their origins. And to guide others towards that truth."

  Kyeong'ui stared at him, her expression blank. Ryang, flustered by her silence, asked, "Is my explanation too complicated?"

  Though she had read the Azure Scripture, his explanation confused her. As a story, it had been entertaining, but its deeper meaning, its complex cosmology, remained elusive. She felt a twinge of annoyance.

  "It sounds impressive," she admitted, "but I don't understand a word of it."

  "It will," Ryang agreed, setting down his teacup. "Even after years of study, the interpretations can change from one day to the next. That's why there are so many commentaries."

  "Only those who haven't read the Azure Scripture truly understand it?" Kyeong'ui quipped.

  "Is that saying still prevalent in Sunyahng?" Ryang asked.

  Kyeong'ui's lips curled into a smile. "A similar sentiment exists at the Sanctuary," she admitted.

  Ryang chuckled. Even he, who readily acknowledged his limited understanding of the scripture, seemed like an expert in her eyes.

  "And what is your interpretation, born of the light of truth?" Kyeong'ui asked, her voice laced with a playful challenge. "Do you believe the Scions are invulnerable, wielding fire and wind with their divine powers?"

  Ryang shook his head. "I hold no such beliefs," he replied. "And there are no records of House Myeonghyeon possessing such abilities."

  "That's a relief," Kyeong'ui remarked.

  "Why is that?"

  "I wouldn't want to believe in such things," she said with a disarming smile.

  Ryang blinked, unsure how to interpret her response. Kyeong'ui, her attention waning, let her gaze wander over Ryang's face and attire. Her eyes settled on the scar on his left hand.

  "You don't seem like the type to get into trouble," she remarked. "How did you get that scar?"

  Ryang self-consciously touched the mark. "It's an old injury from my childhood," he replied, hesitant to share such a personal story with his enemy. But after a moment's consideration, he continued.

  "My sister and I had two other siblings," he explained. "A brother and a sister. They both died before she was born. And I wasn't the firstborn either. I had an older sister who died before I was born."

  "Your family struggled to have children," Kyeong'ui observed.

  "I was terrified that Seon would die as well," Ryang admitted. "So I carved a wooden doll for her, a small gift. I wonder if she even remembers it."

  Kyeong'ui's heart warmed at the image of the young Ryang, diligently carving the doll.

  "You injured yourself while making it?" she asked.

  "I was quite severely scolded," Ryang chuckled. "But my mother gave the doll to Seon. And perhaps thanks to that doll, she grew up strong and healthy."

  The memory, brought to the forefront by Kyeong'ui's curiosity, filled Ryang with a warmth he hadn't felt in years. He smiled, then quickly composed himself, embarrassed by his unguarded expression. He had never smiled so freely in her presence before. He glanced at her, her eyes sparkling with interest as she listened to his story. Her curiosity seemed genuine. He suddenly felt a pang of guilt, remembering that she was the same age as Seon.

  "I envy her," Kyeong'ui remarked.

  "Envy my sister?" Ryang asked, surprised.

  "You lit up when you spoke of your sister," Kyeong'ui explained. "I have two brothers, but neither of them has ever shown me such affection."

  A sad smile touched Ryang's lips. "I'm sure they care for you deeply, Your Highness," he said gently. "Perhaps they simply have a different way of showing it."

  "Perhaps," Kyeong'ui conceded, but her expression remained somber. She remembered the Crown Prince's cold, disapproving gaze, the disdain that always seemed to flicker in his eyes. Ryang's reassurances rang hollow. Sensing the shift in mood, she straightened in her chair, eager to lighten the atmosphere.

  "You mentioned you practice archery," she said, her gaze falling upon the calluses on his hands. "Would you care for a match? We have a training ground within the encampment."

  Though the thought of facing the princess with a weapon in her hand made him uneasy, Ryang couldn't refuse. He smiled politely.

  "I'd be honored, Your Highness."