SNF | Chapter 1.3

With nothing else to say, Yeon-oh simply gave a short response. His gaze flickered to the Prime Minister, who had turned to a nearby servant, ordering them to prepare an evening meal. Wrinkles gathered at the corners of his father’s eyes as he smiled, patting Yeon-oh lightly on the back.

“Come now, let’s go to your quarters. I had them refurbished before your arrival. I hope you’ll find them to your liking.”

“Since Father personally saw to the arrangements, how could I not be pleased with them?”

“Listen to you speak… It’s hard to believe you’re only just turning sixteen. I’ve seen many noble sons from other families, but none as mature as you.”

The Prime Minister looked at Yeon-oh with sincere admiration, as if proud of the son he had raised.

“…You flatter me.”

As he replied, Yeon-oh thought to himself.

Did his father realize that it was he himself who had shaped Yeon-oh into what he was today?

A child who lacked the love and embrace of a mother, who had grown up without the steadfast presence of a father to cast a protective shadow, had no choice but to grow up faster than others.

That was all there was to it.

That was why he swallowed down his true thoughts and spoke only the correct words.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Your fever has gone down significantly, and your energy flow is more stable than yesterday. That’s a relief.”

Jo Myeonghwan, who had been checking Yeon-oh’s pulse for a while, spoke in an indifferent tone. He had been Yeon-oh’s attending physician for the past eight years, ever since Yeon-oh had gone down to Hanam. Withdrawing his hand, Jo Myeonghwan sat back as Yeon-oh propped himself up against the bedpost, moving away from where he had been lying. Now that the dizziness had subsided, he could endure sitting up.

“It must have been a combination of exhaustion from the journey and the cold of the capital city.”

“You think so?”

“And yet you insisted on opening the window on the way back.”

On the night of his return to the capital, after having dinner with the Prime Minister, Yeon-oh had gone to bed early—only to be struck with a sudden fever that left him bedridden for several days. A relentless cough, laced with a metallic rasp, echoed through his chambers, and the fever refused to break. Even trying to sit up sent his vision spinning, leaving him no choice but to remain still. Speaking had been out of the question. He had endured four full days of this.

“I only opened the window for a moment.”

“With your constitution, even a moment is too long. You knew that, and yet you still did it.”

Despite Jo Myeonghwan’s blunt words, Yeon-oh didn’t show any irritation. Instead, he chuckled lightly. He had long grown used to the physician’s curt manner after years of dealing with him. Jo Myeonghwan always spoke sharply, but in truth, he was one of the few who genuinely took care of Yeon-oh. Knowing this, Yeon-oh overlooked most of his rudeness, so long as he didn’t cross a line.

Apart from his nanny, Jo Myeonghwan was one of the very few people who could expect such leniency from him.

“At least I didn’t get sick while we were traveling.”

“Had you fallen ill on the way, we would still be stuck on the road, far from the capital.”

“Ah. You’re probably right.”

If he had gotten sick on the journey, what should have been a seven-day trip could have easily stretched to ten days or more, like a pampered noblewoman delaying her travels. Yeon-oh nodded, accepting the reasoning without argument.

“By the way, will I be fine to attend the banquet today?”

It had been during dinner with the Prime Minister on the night of his return that his father mentioned hosting a banquet three days later to celebrate Yeon-oh’s safe return. The empire, regardless of social status, celebrated the New Year festivities for at least fifteen to twenty days. It wasn’t unusual for noble families to host gatherings during this time.

Especially for a family like Hye-ga, the most powerful aristocratic house in the empire, hosting a grand banquet to display their continued dominance was almost expected. More than just a celebration, the event would also serve as an opportunity for the Prime Minister to formally present Yeon-oh to society before his sixteenth birthday. Yeon-oh had already agreed to it.

“Yes, but you must take your medicine and rest more before then. You still have a slight fever. If it doesn’t go down, attending the banquet will be difficult.”

“I’ve been stuck in bed for days. I feel stifled.”

“You don’t usually care much for going outside, so what’s gotten into you now?”

Yeon-oh turned his gaze toward Jo Myeonghwan. Though his words were as blunt as always, Yeon-oh, having spent years with him, could tell there was something different about his tone today. There was a sharpness, a hidden thorn in his words.

“Is it just my imagination, or are you unusually tense today?”

”…….”

“Seok Kyung?”

As the silence stretched, Yeon-oh called Jo Myeonghwan by his courtesy name. The physician let out a quiet sigh.

”…I was being disrespectful.”

“I’m not scolding you for being rude. I simply said you seem sharper than usual.”

“I don’t like the capital very much.”

Yeon-oh was reminded of Jo Myeonghwan from before he came up to the Capital. He had tried to keep himself composed, but it was clear that for the past few days, he had been on edge, his mood darkened.

“The Capital is your hometown, isn’t it?”

“…….”

“Why? Did you leave behind a lover here or something?”

It was nothing more than a playful tease, a casual remark tossed out without much thought. But Jo Myeonghwan neither confirmed nor denied it. He merely lowered his gaze and smirked slightly.

“…If Your Excellency permits, I shall bring the decoction.”

His reaction was as good as an affirmation. Without another word, Yeon-oh let him go.

Once Jo Myeonghwan had left, Yeon-oh stared at the empty space he had vacated. He hadn’t meant to prod at an old wound. If he had known, he wouldn’t have said such things. Clicking his tongue at the lingering discomfort, he sighed.

Looking back, if not for such a past, Jo Myeonghwan would never have followed Yeon-oh down to Hanam.

Jo Myeonghwan was a longtime retainer of the Hye family and the direct heir of the Jo clan, renowned for its generations of exceptional medical knowledge. Among the Jo bloodline, he had displayed an especially keen aptitude for medicine, to the point where rumors circulated that he would soon enter the palace as a royal physician. However, when Yeon-oh’s illness worsened and he needed to leave for Hanam to recuperate, Myeonghwan voluntarily chose to follow him.

His father had agreed, reasoning that while becoming a royal physician was certainly an honor, there was no greater honor than serving the future head of the Hye family up close. And so, Myeonghwan had departed for Hanam alongside Yeon-oh.

Regardless of the past, Yeon-oh couldn’t shake the feeling that he had dug into someone else’s wounds. But sitting here brooding wouldn’t change anything. He decided to lie down until the decoction arrived.

Just as he was settling in, the door opened. Assuming it was Myeonghwan returning with the medicine, Yeon-oh lifted his gaze—only to straighten his posture upon seeing who had entered.

“Father.”

“Yeon-oh, how is your health? No need to get up.”

His father had likely come straight from court, still dressed in his official robes. Yeon-oh’s gaze flicked briefly to the outside. He found it irritating that the servants hadn’t announced the Prime Minister’s arrival. Of course, it was likely that his father had ordered them not to, but this was Yeon-oh’s space. And he was their master. They should have known better. Or perhaps, they had known and chosen to stay silent.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight in just a few days. I heard you were unwell, but I’ve been too busy to come see you. Forgive this neglectful father.”

“You are always busy. I know that you checked on my condition through the nanny.”

Instead of expressing his true feelings, Yeon-oh responded with a calm expression and an even voice. Maintaining this kind of composure was second nature to him. After all, what good would it do to reveal anything otherwise?

“I’m grateful you understand.”

Whether his father noticed his unspoken thoughts or not, the Prime Minister simply smiled, though his face showed clear fatigue.

“And about the banquet today…”

His father started speaking slowly. Yeon-oh could already guess what he was about to say. Without waiting for him to finish, he answered, intending to put his worries to rest.

“I can attend without any issue, so you don’t have to worry.”

“No, your health is more important than the banquet. If you’re not feeling well, you don’t need to attend. There will always be other banquets.”

“It’s just travel fatigue. There’s no need to worry. I’m feeling much better now.”

Yeon-oh shook his head, declining his father’s consideration. Seeing Yeon-oh’s firm resolve, the Prime Minister, seemingly pleased, reached out and brushed his son’s cheek. The touch was cold, carrying a slight chill, making the fine hairs on Yeon-oh’s skin rise. But he allowed it without resistance.

“You’ve grown so thin. Your face has become rough.” His voice was thick with regret.

“Yeon-oh.”

“Yes, Father.”

“You must hear this all the time, but you are the noble heir of the Hye family.”

“Which means I cannot afford to be lying sick like this. I understand, Father. I will take extra care of my health from now on.”

“Yes. Of course. That is how it should be.”

The Prime Minister lowered the hand that had been stroking Yeon-oh’s cheek. With that, silence filled the room. Though it had been some time since they last saw each other—since the day they arrived in the Capital—there wasn’t much left to say. An awkward hush settled between them. Feeling uncomfortable, Yeon-oh let out a small cough. A rough, hoarse sound scratched through his throat. His father raised an eyebrow, clearly displeased, but since Yeon-oh had already promised to take care of himself, he said nothing more.

“Young Master, this humble servant seeks permission to enter.”

Just as Yeon-oh was wondering how to break the uneasy atmosphere, the nanny’s voice rang from beyond the door. Since Yeon-oh’s throat was swollen and he couldn’t speak too loudly, it was the Prime Minister who granted her entry.

“I have brought the decoction.”

The nanny stepped in, holding a tray with the medicine. Normally, this task fell to Jo Myeonghwan. If he wasn’t the one bringing the medicine, it usually meant something had happened—something related to Yeon-oh, in most cases. Nine times out of ten, it was Myeonghwan’s hands that carried the decoction. Given what had happened earlier, Yeon-oh had expected that Myeonghwan might delegate the task to someone else today. So instead of asking where he was, Yeon-oh simply reached out and took the bowl.

The medicine tasted more bitter than usual. Or perhaps it was the same, and it was just his mood that made it seem so.

“Here, have this.”

Seeing Yeon-oh grimace at the taste, the nanny handed him a piece of yumilgwa. He took it immediately, popping it into his mouth. The lingering bitterness on his tongue was finally washed away by the sweet treat.

“I thought you had grown up, but you still act the same when drinking medicine.”

The Prime Minister’s comment came out of nowhere as he observed Yeon-oh’s actions. Yeon-oh let out a sheepish laugh.

“…Is that so?”

“Yes. I only saw you drink medicine once when you were a child, but you, who were always so composed, frowned for the first time then. That moment stuck with me. Your mother hated bitter things as well—you take after her in that regard.”

Any conversation with his father always seemed to lead back to his mother. Eight years ago, when he had left, when he had returned, and even now.

“Then, did Mother like sweets as much as I do?”

Instead of reacting emotionally, Yeon-oh chose to take a step into his father’s memories.

“Yes. She loved sweet things and despised even the slightest bitterness.”

The deep sigh that followed carried a longing no words could ever fill. Yeon-oh had no idea how to respond. Before he could decide, his father was already collecting himself.

“…Now that you’ve taken your medicine, you should rest properly. I suppose my presence is keeping you from relaxing.”

“That is not—”

“It is. I can see that you’re not at ease. In any case, if you feel even the slightest discomfort, don’t hesitate to send word.”

“I will.”

“Then lie down now.”

“How could I, when Father is still here…? I will rest properly once you leave.”

“No, go on and lie down. I want to watch over you as you fall asleep. It’s been so long—since you were a child, I haven’t seen it even once.”

With such insistence, there was no room for refusal.