The blood of Minister Jang's men had barely dried when the court struck again—this time,
not with swords, but with demands.
The opposition faction, now emboldened after wiping out Jang's loyalists, marched into court
with cold smiles and venomous words.
"Your Majesty," one minister said, bowing slightly but without reverence, "for the sake of the throne's stability, the crown cannot remain without a queen. The people whisper, the palace trembles, and foreign states will see this as weakness. You must marry again."
A ripple of approval swept through the chamber. Minister after minister echoed the call.
"The court is in chaos, Your Majesty."
"A king without a queen invites ruin."
"A new queen will silence doubts of the heavens' curse."
King Younghae sat still upon his throne, his jaw tight. His heart had not healed from the loss
of Queen Saha, and the weight of her final words still pierced him every night. Yet here they were, less than a month after her death, pressing him to replace her as though she had
never lived.
For a brief moment, rage flared in his chest. He wanted to stand, to roar at them, to cast his
crown to the floor and defy them all. But he could not. He was no longer just a man, no
longer just a grieving husband. He was king—and kings, even when bound in chains, must
nod and smile.
"…Very well," he said, his voice flat, lifeless. "I will marry again."
The ministers exchanged knowing glances. It was as though they had anticipated his
answer, prepared every step ahead of him. Before the meeting ended, names had already
been put forward, whispers of noble daughters carried through the court like wildfire.
By the time the sun set, the choice had been made. A new queen was selected with eerie
swiftness, almost as if the faction had prepared her long before Saha's death.
When the news reached the palace, servants whispered behind closed doors. Some pitied
their king, others cursed his weakness, but most feared the ministers' growing grip on the
throne.
And in the quiet of his chambers, King Younghae sat alone, staring at Saha's empty seat, the scent of her presence still lingering faintly in the air.
"They will not even let me mourn you," he whispered bitterly. "Am I king… or their puppet". Kim younghae said bitterly wondering where it all went wrong.
While the court bled itself with politics and the king grew shackled under the weight of his
ministers, another silent battle was being fought in the far corner of the palace.
Lady Hanuel cradled the infant crown prince in her arms. His small body trembled with heat,
his skin glowing faintly with unnatural fire. The flames were no longer subtle—they burned
stronger each passing day, threatening to consume him from within. Every time she touched him, her ice powers weakened, melting faster than she could restore.
She had been pouring herself into him since his birth, feeding her cold essence to subdue
his burning curse, but now her strength was fading. And also the fight she had with her sister also drained her energy.
The deity of frost, once feared and revered, could hardly stand without staggering.
Tears welled in her eyes as she gazed at Taehyung.
"Your mother is gone… your grandfather is gone… and even your father, the king, is no
longer free. You are truly alone, little one. Even the court does not see you as crown prince they see only a cursed child."
The boy whimpered softly, and his flames flared again, scalding the air. Hanuel winced but pulled him closer.
"No more," she whispered. "I will not let you suffer this way."
She closed her eyes and summoned her very core—the origins of her deity power, the
essence that made her more than mortal. A cold blue light radiated from her chest,
shimmering like eternal snow. Slowly, painfully, she pressed the glowing core into
Taehyung's tiny body.
The child gasped, his flames roaring violently before quieting, subdued by the power that
now lived within him. His cries softened, his body relaxing into a peaceful slumber.
Hanuel collapsed to her knees, her breath shallow, her once radiant aura dimmed. She could feel it—her power was gone, leaving her only a fragile shell of what she once was.
"This will not last forever," she murmured weakly, stroking Taehyung's hair. "Three years…
no more. Perhaps less. That is all the time I have given you. After that, I can no longer save
you."
She kissed the boy's forehead and gathered what strength remained to stand. Her steps
were slow, unsteady, as she carried herself toward the king's chambers.
When she entered, King Younghae rose in alarm. The sight of her weakened figure sent a
pang through his chest.
"Lady Hanuel… what happened to you?"
Her lips trembled, but she forced herself to bow.
Your Majesty… I have given Taehyung my core. My power… it will hold back his flames for
three years at most. After that…" Her voice faltered. "After that, he will need something
greater, or he will be lost."
The king froze, his face pale as though struck by thunder.
"You—your core? That means… you've sacrificed yourself."
Hanuel smiled faintly, though tears glistened in her eyes.
"I am his guardian. His mother entrusted him to me. I will not fail him, even if it means fading
away."
Her body shook, her knees almost buckling again.
"But remember this, Your Majesty—time is short. Three years is all the heavens have
allowed. Protect him… or lose him."
The king could not answer. He could only stare at her fragile form, feeling once again the
unbearable weight of his failures.
The words left the king's mouth blunt and cold as a blade: "If that is all he has to live for, then
kill him, before his flames destroy the world."
Hanuel's hands stilled, the babe in her arms forgotten for a heartbeat as the world narrowed
to that single, unbearable sentence. The throne room seemed to tilt; the torchlight
shimmered like guilty eyes. For one long breath she could not find the air to answer.
"How could you say that, Your Majesty?" she managed at last, voice breaking like thin ice.
The shock broke into accusation. "He is your child. He is Saha's child. How have you turned
so….." Her words dissolved into a keening that had nothing of ceremony left in it. "This is not
you. This is not the man I once trusted. You're no longer the king I was once loyal to."
Younghae looked older than his years. Grief had hollowed out the king, and responsibility
had carved its lines deeper. He did not look angry. He looked exhausted in a way that
frightened her more than any fury could.
"What could I have done, Hanuel?" he said, not asking, but stating the truth that burned him.
"Tell me one thing I could have done that would keep the kingdom whole and spare them all this suffering. If I refuse to make hard choices, the court will tear itself apart—and the throne will fall. If the throne falls, everything we swore to protect will crumble. Moreover the heavens had already cursed him, he won't live long anyways so we ain't killing him.... We are just protecting him from the flames that will end up consuming him by giving him a quick death." His voice was small beneath the high ceiling.
Hanuel felt something cold and terrible open in her chest. She had been his ally for years;
she had believed in him. Now his words were a blade aimed at the very flesh of his family.
"You are truly heartless, Your Majesty," she spat, though each word cut her as well. "Saha
took your heart and you refuse to let it go. I pity her if she could see you now." The
accusation rang through the hall and then, softer, "Do you even hear yourself?"
Kim younghae looked her in the eyes and said "What would you expect me to do? Did I
know this throne to be this heavy? I wasn't prepared for this… I will rebuild a new life with my new queen? If I'm being called a coward for running from problem then let me be a coward. I will protect my new family…. Saha is already dead, her father too has died… It won't matter
if Taehyung died as well"
For the first time since she had knelt at the prince's cradle, Hanuel fell to her knees—not in supplication to a ruler, but in a raw, human plea. She set the child gently into his woven bed, wrapping him in the last warmth she could muster, then rose and faced the king eye to eye.
The goddess of frost….who had poured her core into an infant to deny death—let her voice
break with hope and fear both.
"Give me two years," she begged. "Two years to find a solution. I will search the temples, the
old rites, the hidden things the court would burn. If I return with no answer… then do as you
must." Her hands were clenched tight; her knuckles shone white. "But do not let a child die by decree without giving every possible life a chance. Let me try. Let me save him."
Younghae's face did not soften immediately. The burden of kingship anchored him to a
calculus of loss and survival. Yet the sight of Hanuel—so weakened, so resolved—stirred
something that had not died inside him: the memory of Saha's last breath, her plea that their son be allowed his will. It flashed like a blade through his numbness.
He closed his eyes, and for a moment the motion of the court faded. When he opened them again, the hardness had not gone entirely, but something gentler sat beneath it. He nodded once, heavily.
"Two years," he said. "Two years from this day. If you cannot save him in that time, I will do
what must be done."
Hanuel bowed her forehead to the floor, tears she did not bother to hide sliding through the
lines of her face. "I will not fail you," she vowed—less to the king than to the small sleeping
form in the crib, to the promise she had made to Saha and to the dying ember of her own
power.
Younghae stepped closer, and for a rare instant his voice betrayed the man beneath the
crown: "Thank you…. And I'm sorry for turning out this way." But the gratitude was bitter,
laced with the knowledge of what he had agreed to. He turned away, a king once more
burdened and hollowed, leaving Hanuel alone to carry the quiet, impossible work of buying
time with frost and faith.
Outside the chamber the palace hummed on, indifferent to private oaths. Inside, a pact had
been sealed—one born of desperation and love, of duty and tragedy. Hanuel would have two years. The clock began to click.