SNF | Chapter 5.5

The banquet hall quickly filled with laughter, conversation, and merriment. Surrounded by an endless stream of guests, Yeon-oh found himself the center of attention.

As the heir of Hanam, he was destined to lead a noble household. Yet, he could not remain in isolation, no matter how prestigious his lineage was. He needed people. And to gather them, he had to engage—playing along when necessary.

The Prime Minister, watching quietly, was momentarily surprised to see how smoothly Yeon-oh navigated the conversation. The boy, who had never once stepped beyond the family’s protective walls, was handling the social intricacies of court far better than expected. Amusement flickered across the older man’s face before he let out a soft chuckle.

“Father.”

Between the endless rounds of toasts and well-wishes for his coming of age, Yeon-oh finally spoke in a quiet voice.

“I feel the effects of the wine. My head is light—I would like to step away for a moment.”

A mere excuse.

Even though it was his first time drinking, Yeon-oh felt no real effects. At most, there had been a brief warmth in his throat, but nothing more. The truth was, he simply wanted to escape the noise and the crowd for a while.

“You must have overdone it,” the Prime Minister replied. “Very well. Go.”

Though Yeon-oh’s voice carried no trace of intoxication, the Prime Minister granted his request without hesitation, having watched him drink steadily throughout the banquet. As Yeon-oh rose, the gathered nobles instinctively stepped aside to make way. He offered a polite nod of gratitude before moving toward the exit—but just before he stepped away, his gaze flickered toward the imperial family’s table.

The seats meant for the Crown Prince and Crown Princess remained vacant.

Aside from a few officials, no one seemed particularly concerned about their absence. Not even the Emperor, their father.

No one.

…Yes, no one at all.

It was none of his concern. In fact, the Crown Prince was a rival by all accounts. And yet, for some reason, the empty seat nagged at him.

His gaze lingered there until the sudden murmuring of the banquet hall snapped him out of his thoughts. The previously lively atmosphere had shifted into something more restrained, more uncertain.

At the same time, a Eunuch’s voice rang out over the hall.

“His Highness, the Crown Prince, arrives!” The doors swung open, and a figure stepped into the banquet hall.

Draped in black ceremonial robes, embroidered with golden dragons, his hair was neatly tied up beneath a golden coronet. Every step he took exuded a refined grace that could not be easily imitated.

The musicians fell silent. The dancers withdrew, parting instinctively. Even the Emperor, who had been casually conversing with the Empress and the young Prince, turned his gaze toward the Crown Prince with a displeased expression.

“Your Imperial Majesty, I humbly pay my respects. May you enjoy eternal prosperity.”

“…You are late,” the Emperor replied, his tone slow and heavy. “It has become quite difficult to see your face these days. Or am I mistaken?”

“I apologize for my tardiness.”

“Very well. But why have you come alone? Where is the Crown Princess?”

“She was feeling unwell, so I told her to rest in her chambers. I ask that Your Majesty not hold her absence against her.”

“Unwell?” the Emperor repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. “So unwell that she cannot even attend the banquet?”

The Crown Prince said nothing. Instead, it was the Empress who responded.

“Now that I think of it, she was absent from the Inner Court gathering last night as well. If she has been unwell for more than a day, should we not summon the Imperial Physician to examine her? Have you done so, Crown Prince?”

“It is nothing serious, Mother.”

The Crown Prince responded smoothly, his lips curving into a polite smile as he declined her suggestion. His refusal was firm—too firm.

Seeing this, the Empress relented with a gentle nod, as if respecting his wishes. But of course, she did not mean it.

“As it concerns your wife, I shall leave it to you to handle. Now, go take your seat.”

The Emperor, unwilling to let their family discord play out before an audience, withdrew his discontent and waved the matter aside.

“I thank Your Majesty for your generous understanding.”

The Crown Prince strode forward, his gait confident and unhurried. Yeon-oh watched everything in silence, observing the way the scene unfolded like a scripted play.

It was too deliberate. Too structured. This… This cannot be real. But just as he blinked, trying to process what was happening, the Crown Prince’s gaze landed directly on his.

Yeon-oh’s breath hitched. As if drawn by some unshakable force, his lips parted before he could stop himself.

“…Yeshin…”

The name escaped him like a whisper, like something unbelievable, like a quiet, desperate hope that it wasn’t true. His voice was so soft, so uncertain, that even the Prime Minister standing beside him did not hear. But had the Crown Prince seen the movement of his lips?

For he had stopped. For he had turned toward him.

And then—he smiled.

It was not a mocking smile. Not quite. Yet something about it twisted something deep inside Yeon-oh. Beneath the cover of his sleeve, his fingers curled tightly into a fist.

“This must be the famous Young Master of Hanam that I’ve heard so much about,” the Crown Prince mused, addressing the Prime Minister.

He spoke with perfect unfamiliarity—as if he and Yeon-oh had never met before.

As if.

The act was so flawless that it nearly made Yeon-oh second-guess reality itself.

“Indeed, Your Highness,” the Prime Minister replied smoothly.

“……I am Yeon-oh of the Hye family, and I humbly greet Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”

If the Crown Prince intended to pretend they had never met, then Yeon-oh had no reason not to do the same.

He kept his expression steady, his voice composed—though there was the faintest trace of tension beneath his words.

“Yeon-oh.”

The Crown Prince murmured his name, his eyes flickering down for the briefest moment—where the delicate lotus embroidery adorned the hem of Yeon-oh’s robes.

“A fitting name,” he mused.

Yeon-oh responded only by lowering his gaze.

“Young Master’s eyes are exceptionally keen, Prime Minister,” the Crown Prince remarked. “Had he not been ill in his youth, he might have joined my yedong¹ as a companion and become a cherished friend.”

“…….”

“It is quite unfortunate,” the Crown Prince added, with an unmistakable edge beneath his polite tone. “I feel as though I have lost a dear friend before ever having one.”

There was a barb buried in those words. A meaning that Yeon-oh could not ignore.

“Your Highness,” Yeon-oh responded, his voice carefully measured. “I, too, find it unfortunate.”

“Do you?”

The Crown Prince’s voice was softer now, almost teasing, yet layered with something heavier.

“Do you truly mean it?”

The Crown Prince’s eyes gleamed strangely as he caught the Prime Minister’s pretense. The Prime Minister, who had intended to conclude the conversation smoothly, realized his slip and shut his mouth, but in a place where dozens of ears were listening, he could not take back what he had already spoken.

“How could I possibly speak falsehoods regarding Your Highness’s safety?”

“In that case, Prime Minister, may I take the young master to the Office of the Crown Prince’s Affairs? Originally, he is someone who should have been under me, is he not?”

The Crown Prince smiled brightly, as if he had not the slightest calculation in mind.

“I apologize, Your Highness, but such a position is too much for Yeon-oh.”

“Could it be that the young master has already agreed to become the prince’s tutor, and that is why you refuse?”

“How could that be?”

It was true that Yeon-oh had agreed to be the prince’s tutor, but since he had not yet received an official decree, the Prime Minister had chosen his words carefully. But how did the Crown Prince know? The answer came quickly—Yeon-oh’s gaze briefly flickered toward the prince seated at the highest seat before returning to its place.

“That is disappointing, Prime Minister. Though I was not born from Her Majesty’s womb, am I not still Her Majesty’s son? By that reasoning, you are my maternal grandfather, and the young master is my uncle. Yet you only take care of my young brother. How could I not feel slighted?”

The Crown Prince showed no intention of backing down. As the standoff dragged on, the Emperor, now irritated, raised his voice.

“Crown Prince! Come up here at once. You arrive late and disrupt the mood of the banquet—what is all this commotion?”

Even under the Emperor’s rebuke, the Crown Prince did not budge. He remained fixed on the Prime Minister, while the room fell silent, all eyes watching the confrontation unfold. Everyone was curious—how would the Prime Minister get out of this?

“Prime Minister?”

“This is not a matter for me to answer, Your Highness.”

The Prime Minister’s gaze turned to Yeon-oh.

“Is this not for Yeon-oh to decide?”

Dodging the question, the Prime Minister shifted the responsibility onto Yeon-oh. Yeon-oh glanced at him, trying to gauge his intentions, but the Prime Minister’s composed smile did not waver.

“Young master, the Prime Minister says your opinion is important. What do you think?”

“…I apologize, but this is not for me to decide.”

Yeon-oh responded while carefully pruning away unnecessary branches of the conversation. The Crown Prince tilted his head slightly as he observed him, appearing more entertained than displeased by the situation.

“The Prime Minister says it is for the young master to decide, yet the young master says it is not his decision to make. Then, who exactly is supposed to decide this matter?”

The Crown Prince gave a slight nod, urging him to answer. Yeon-oh lowered his head.

“If gyehwa² does not end up in my hands, what meaning would today’s promise have?”

“Surely… you don’t mean to take the special examination?”

The Crown Prince’s eyebrows shot up. He had assumed that, as the descendant of a feudal noble, Yeon-oh would naturally enter office through the muneum system. Before today, even Yeon-oh himself had taken that for granted. But now, he spoke of the imperial examination with an impassive expression.

“It is a position that relies on the nation’s stipend. It is only right to follow the proper procedure.”

“Hah. Is that so? You truly think so, young master?”

“I do.”

“You’re not just making an excuse because you don’t want to do it?”

The Crown Prince chuckled softly, piercing through to the core of the matter. Yeon-oh cast his gaze downward.

“Surely not. It was just a jest.”

Then, barely stifling his laughter, the Crown Prince added,

“Very well, then. I will wait. I hope you bring gyehwa to me with a heart full of earnest sincerity.”

Having said his piece, the Crown Prince turned and continued walking. Only after he had taken his seat did the halted musicians resume their performance, and the dancers reentered to continue their routine.