SNF | Chapter 3.1

As soon as Yeon-oh returned home, he had to attend the banquet without delay.

After what could be considered a long banquet, Hye Yeonseo and her husband, Tae Ikhan, left immediately. As the third son of the Lord of Sanseo, Tae Ikhan was a better person than expected. Of course, there was no way to know his true intentions, but at least on the surface, he was good enough to understand why the Prime Minister had arranged his marriage with Hye Yeonseo. He was gentle and cheerful.

Throughout the banquet, Tae Ikhan showed great interest in Yeon-oh. Because of that, Hye Yeonseo’s expression twisted ever so slightly, but the Prime Minister and Tae Ikhan simply took it as the nervousness and anxiety of someone nearing the end of her pregnancy. It was fortunate for Hye Yeonseo, who likely wanted to keep her emotions in check.

Once the banquet, neither too long nor too short, had come to an end and the guests had left, the Prime Minister requested a private conversation. Yeon-oh had no reason to refuse, so he accepted, which led him to the Prime Minister’s quarters now.

“You must be exhausted after everything that happened today.”

“I’m fine.”

The room was filled with a subtle fragrance. Yeon-oh spotted a plum blossom arrangement placed on the window sill and the study desk. Plum blossoms, out of season—it was strange. Both the crimson petals and the Prime Minister, who seemed determined to go against the flow of time. But instead of voicing his thoughts, Yeon-oh simply commented that the fragrance was pleasant.

“No, you do look tired. I should’ve let you rest today and called for you tomorrow instead.”

“I’m truly fine. Especially since this is a gathering you personally arranged, Father.”

At Yeon-oh’s response, the Prime Minister smiled. Yeon-oh, instead of leaning comfortably against the chair, kept his back straight, watching the man before him. It was a deliberate posture—one that allowed no room for vulnerability.

“Earlier at the palace, His Majesty brought you up in passing. He mentioned that Hanam will have nothing to worry about in the future.”

“You flatter me. I still have much to learn, and I will continue seeking guidance from you, Father.”

“No, I agree with His Majesty. You’ve grown well. You’re more than suited to be my successor.”

The stream of praise felt more burdensome than pleasant, but Yeon-oh merely lifted the corners of his lips smoothly.

“His Majesty is already considering your future appointment.”

“My appointment?”

“Yes. Do you perhaps not have any intention of serving in office?”

“That’s not it. If I can be of service to His Majesty, it would be the greatest honor. However… I simply thought it might be too soon.”

“I was even younger than you when I first entered government service, so it’s not that early.”

Yeon-oh didn’t bother to argue further. The fact that the Prime Minister was bringing up this topic meant he wanted Yeon-oh to take a position. Questioning it would be futile.

Moreover, if he were to be appointed through muneum¹—the privilege that allowed the direct descendant of a noble house to enter government service—it wasn’t something Yeon-oh could refuse. Muneum was a right granted to only one direct descendant of a feudal lord’s family. And the Prime Minister, wanting to further establish the strength of the Hye family, would undoubtedly make use of this privilege.

“Still, as you said, you’ve only just reached adulthood, meaning you lack accumulated experience. So a high-ranking position would be too much… Hmm. What about becoming the tutor of the prince? None of the previous candidates have been particularly satisfactory. But you, you’ve already memorized the Six Classics and understand their meanings as well. You would make an excellent teacher for the prince.”

“The prince’s tutor…?”

Yeon-oh couldn’t comprehend the Prime Minister’s intention. The prince was his nephew, yes, but that was purely a personal connection. As a relative by marriage to the imperial family, taking such a position could stir up controversy. Moreover, the prince would soon be granted a title and leave the Capital City. Then why was the Prime Minister bringing this up now? It made no sense to Yeon-oh.

“Yes. Ah, are you hesitant because you haven’t met the prince yet?”

The Prime Minister misinterpreted Yeon-oh’s hesitation. Yeon-oh shook his head, denying the assumption.

“That is not the issue… Rather, if I were to become the prince’s tutor, wouldn’t it cause unnecessary rumors?”

“What kind of rumors?”

“I am the prince’s maternal uncle. Furthermore, you, Father, are both the gukgu and the Prime Minister. Won’t it look as if we are strengthening the prince’s position? The Crown Prince will not take kindly to this.”

“And so what if he doesn’t?”

“But, Father—”

“There’s no need to concern yourself with that.”

The Prime Minister cut him off decisively. Yeon-oh closed his mouth. A question arose in his mind.

Looking back on the conversation, it seemed the Prime Minister was not particularly favorable toward the Crown Prince.

Why? The Crown Prince was the rightful heir to the throne. There was no benefit in antagonizing him. Unless… the Crown Prince was so reckless and incompetent that he could not be tolerated—but no such rumors had reached Yeon-oh, neither in Hanam nor in the Capital City.

As thoughts tangled in his mind, Yeon-oh’s expression suddenly shifted.

“…No way.”

“The praise from your mentor doesn’t seem to have been mere flattery.”

The Prime Minister was planning for the prince to vie for the throne.

To Yeon-oh, this was reckless beyond comprehension. It was one thing for a father to dream of his daughter’s son aiming for the throne, but that was only possible if the gap between the Crown Prince and the prince was marginal.

The Crown Prince was ten years older than the prince. Moreover, with the coming Spring Festival, the prince would turn eight and receive a royal title, after which he would be sent to a distant domain. That would make any future scheming all the more difficult.

Rather than betting everything on a young prince’s fate, wouldn’t it be far more rational to align with the Crown Prince and take part in the grand endeavor alongside him? The Prime Minister was a seasoned figure in politics—why had he made such a decision? Yeon-oh couldn’t reconcile this contradiction.

“He’s only eight.”

“No, he’s already eight.”

“No. He’s merely eight. The prince is far too young.”

“There have been kings who ruled the world at an even younger age.”

“But wasn’t that only because Emperor Wu of Northern Song passed away suddenly, leaving behind his five-year-old son? That situation cannot be compared to the present. The foundation of Anra is firm.”

“A foundation is nothing more than something to be uprooted. What’s so difficult about that?”

For a brief moment, arrogance flickered across the Prime Minister’s otherwise indifferent expression.

“…Do you truly believe you have a chance at victory, Father?”

Yeon-oh asked out of genuine curiosity. No matter how much he thought about it, he could not grasp the Prime Minister’s intentions.

“I have never once thrown myself into a battle without a chance of winning.”

“……”

“Not once. Victory has always been mine to seize.”

That overwhelming confidence had to be backed by something. Indeed, the Prime Minister had never faltered, not even once. That was how he had risen to his current position.

“You look troubled. That’s understandable.”

Yeon-oh cast a complicated gaze at the Prime Minister, who leisurely lifted his teacup.

“I only mentioned it to plant the idea before the Spring Festival, but perhaps it was a little early.”

As Yeon-oh remained silent, the Prime Minister took a slow sip of tea before gently placing the cup down.

“Think it over.”

“Think it over?”

“Yes. About everything. And once your thoughts are in order, we shall continue this conversation.”

With that, the Prime Minister diffuse the tension that had nearly escalated and signaled the end of their discussion.

Yeon-oh parted his lips slightly but then simply nodded. There was no conclusion to be drawn here, not yet.

“It’s late. Get some rest.”

“Yes. Please rest well too, Father. I will take my leave now.”

“Go on.”

The Prime Minister saw him off with a warm smile—almost excessively so. Before he could be consumed by that unsettling kindness, Yeon-oh hastily left the Prime Minister’s quarters.

His teacup remained untouched.

—

As Yeon-oh walked along the corridor, leaning slightly into the dim glow of the lanterns, the path felt unusually long—even though it wasn’t far at all.

He was lost in thought.

Think it over. That was what the Prime Minister had said. In other words, no matter what choice Yeon-oh made, whether he chose the Crown Prince over the prince, his decision would be respected.

The Prime Minister had declared that he would place the prince—soon to be eight years old—on the throne. Given that he was the core pillar of the Hye family, his words carried immense weight. It wasn’t just his personal ambition; it was the will of the family itself. Anyone born of Hanam’s blood, or even connected to Hanam, was expected to follow that will.

Yet, the Prime Minister had given Yeon-oh a choice.

That made no sense.

Did the Prime Minister wish for Yeon-oh to follow the family’s will of his own accord? That seemed to be the most logical conclusion. But even then, another question arose—why did the Prime Minister want Yeon-oh to choose voluntarily? Whether it was by his own will or by coercion, the outcome would be the same.

As Yeon-oh absentmindedly brushed his fingers against his lips, deep in thought, a servant’s voice snapped him back to reality, informing him that he had arrived at his quarters. He had nearly passed his residence entirely, lost in contemplation. Lowering his hand from his lips, he stepped inside.

“Young Master.”

Pushing aside the tangled thoughts in his mind, he washed up. After changing into his nightwear, he intended to read a book before bed, but just as he reached for a text, his nanny approached and called for him.

“A letter has arrived for you, Young Master…”

“A letter?”

“Yes. There was no name written on the envelope, so I was about to return it. But the one who brought it claimed you had permitted the exchange of letters, so I accepted it for now. What shall I do?”

Her tone made it clear that if Yeon-oh did not explicitly accept it, she was more than ready to burn it on the spot. It was considered disrespectful to send a letter without the recipient’s name or family crest, so her disapproval was understandable.

Rather than addressing the sender’s breach of etiquette, Yeon-oh recalled someone he had met earlier today. A voice that had asked if he would allow a correspondence.

“…Ah. I did make such a promise.”

“You may bring it to me.”

Even after receiving his permission, his nanny’s expression remained displeased as she reluctantly handed him the letter. Yeon-oh waved her away, and once she had left, he turned his attention to the envelope.

There was no name on it, but the quality was remarkable. And the letter inside—its paper carried a faint, elegant fragrance, the kind only those of considerable wealth could afford to use.

His curiosity about Yeshin’s family deepened. He unfolded the letter. The script, fluid and confident, filled the page neatly.

“I humbly send my greetings, Young Master. I trust that you will overlook the discourtesy of an unmarked envelope with your generous heart.”

The letter contained little substance. Just shallow, trivial matters of daily life. And yet, Yeon-oh didn’t find it unpleasant. If anything, it was refreshing.

How long had it been since he received a letter with no ulterior motives? He didn’t even need to think about it. This was the first time.

Of course, he had received letters before, but they always had a purpose. And those purposes inevitably sought to strangle him, squeezing his breath tight.

But this letter was different. There was no objective. No hidden intent.

“I wish for your peace and well-being,” it concluded.