Camellia Permeates the Snow

Episode 15

Another Memory Arises

For a while, my days she continued as usual.

The Manhae-dang was bustling with preparations for the coronation ceremony, and countless people came and went, creating small disturbances, but the work proceeded without a hitch.

Amidst this, Yeonhwa spent her time in the room as if time had stopped, unable to speak of that day’s events due to the order to remain silent, hiding her anxious heart as she waited for the Crown Prince to send someone.

Over the past few days, she had tried to discern Kang-yun’s intentions, but she could not fathom them at all.

In her hope, she sought out Ari to learn about the origin of the bittersweet melody she had played that day. As expected, it turned out to be an instrument discarded by the Seonumwon, with no connection to the Crown Prince.

‘Then it’s just a sin of having left the room on my own…’

The Crown Prince had not mentioned her leaving at all. Instead, he had asked something else.

‘He asked if I had met the Crown Prince of Ahwan before the fall of Yeoguk.’

Yeonhwa had lived her whole life in Yeoguk.

Even before becoming a spirit and entering the inner palace, she had never left her hometown of Seonyeong, so unless the Crown Prince had visited Seonyeong, the possibility of their meeting was nonexistent. Moreover, Seon-yeong was a small, quiet seaside village without port facilities.

Visits from outsiders were extremely rare, and due to pirate raids, there was a heightened vigilance; when a stranger arrived, the village would be bustling for quite some time.

If the Crown Prince of Ahwan had visited, the entire village would have buzzed for at least a year. Thus, the chance that they had brushed past each other unnoticed was slim.

Yeonhwa had seen only Na-han as an outsider while living in Seonyeong…

“……”

At that moment, for a brief instant, an utterly absurd thought crossed Yeonhwa’s mind: Could Kang-yun be Na-han? Such an incredibly ridiculous notion.

‘That can’t be. He is not Na-han.’

Yeonhwa quickly shook her head as if she had entertained a blasphemous thought.

When Na-han had first been discovered, he had been lying on the beach, covered in wounds.

Although his clothing looked expensive, it was torn and tattered, resembling the attire of someone who had been well-maintained rather than that of royalty.

Furthermore, Na-han had introduced himself as an ordinary swordsman.

He had said he grew up under an ordinary mother and father, following various trading ships for protection against pirates.

His manner of speaking might have been that of someone of a higher class, but it was fitting for the leader of a swordsman group.

Most importantly, the reason Kang-yun and Na-han could not be the same person lay in their natures.

Na-han, while cautious, was deeply considerate and kind-hearted, and he was full of mischief and liveliness compared to his peers.

When one looked into his eyes, they sparkled with joy, as if he were ready to set off on an adventure at any moment. He ate anything, regardless of whether it was dry or wet.

Occasionally, he would lower himself to lift Yeonhwa without hesitation. Above all, he was always smiling. He was truly like a young breeze filled with the warmth of spring.

However, Kang-yun was different. No, the Crown Prince was different.

Born noble, he was someone who must never bow his head, revered and respected by all, destined to be supreme.

He possessed the world but could not easily go anywhere.

He was like the north wind in winter, and his eyes held a cold, sharp light sharper than a blade.

He was someone who must look down upon all things, and thus, he could never be associated with anything filthy or ugly.

He seemed to have no regard for people, nor did he appear to need them. Even his laughter seemed a means of politics.

He must have been educated that way long before he even had a will of his own. Naturally, those teachings would have been deeply ingrained in him.

No matter how much he might be in trouble, how could he act like Na-han?

At that time, Na-han had barely escaped being a beggar thanks to Yeonhwa’s help. Such a life would have been unbearable for someone of royal blood.

‘He might resemble him a little…’

No matter how much time had passed, could a person change so completely?

Everything—his gaze, actions, even the way he spoke and expressed himself—was entirely different. It was unimaginable to Yeonhwa.

If someone else heard this, they might consider it an affront to the Crown Prince. Yeonhwa quickly dismissed the futile thought and turned her head.

Then, at the edge of her vision, a white silk handkerchief came into view. It was the very item Kang-yun had gently wrapped around her fingertips.

Though she had washed it carefully to avoid staining it with blood, her clumsy hands had rendered it less pristine than before.

She found herself in a dilemma, unable to return it to him, nor could she carelessly discard it.

‘Still, when we meet again, I should express my gratitude.’

A heavy sense of indebtedness pressed down on her chest.

A few days later, someone finally came to the Donggungjeon. It was none other than Chuk-si, right when the gates opened.

“The Crown Prince commands that the offerings for the coronation ceremony be brought to the Donggungjeon.”

In the early dawn when everyone was asleep, the Taegam quietly delivered the message, and Bosan let out a slow breath, as if she had already known but wished to avoid it.

How could she defy the Crown Prince’s command? She was merely someone who informed him of easy and difficult paths; the choice was his.

“Bring the lady quietly.”

“Yes, High Priestess.”

At Bosan’s command, her attendant priestess went outside. A moment later, Yeonhwa appeared with Ari, bowing deeply to them.

“I heard you called for me.”

The sight of her made the Taegam involuntarily open her mouth.

Had the concubine who received a vassal state as a gift from the Emperor hundreds of years ago been reincarnated? Or had a heavenly fairy descended to earth? Truly, she could be called the fabled beauty of misfortune.

The Taegam, momentarily entranced by Yeonhwa’s beauty, quickly regained her composure and spoke.

“You must head to the Donggungjeon immediately.”

Yeonhwa nodded without a word and followed the Taegam.

Ari naturally tried to accompany her, but the Taegam stopped her with a troubled expression.

“I apologize to the priestess, but the Crown Prince has commanded that only the offering be brought.”

“What? Are you saying Yeonhwa must go there alone?”

At those words, Ari looked at Yeonhwa with large, worried eyes, sensing her unease after the past few days of turmoil. Yeonhwa smiled gently at Ari, signaling her not to worry.

“Don’t wait; go in first.”

“…Yes, Yeonhwa.”

The Taegam repeatedly urged Ari to keep silent about what she saw today before handing Yeonhwa a veil. This meant she must avoid revealing her face.

Once she donned the veil, it covered her beautiful face and slender figure. With everything concealed, Yeonhwa followed the Taegam to the Donggungjeon.

As she looked around at the pitch-black surroundings, she cautiously exhaled a trembling breath. She could not know what command Kang-yun would give her, so she could not prepare for it either. After several body searches, Yeonhwa finally stepped deep into the Donggungjeon.

“Crown Prince, I have brought the offerings for the coronation ceremony.”

“Bring them in.”

Feeling the heavy voice pressing down on her heart, Yeonhwa entered.

“Let the offering reveal its face.”

At the command of the chief minister, Yeonhwa slowly removed the veil and placed it aside. Then, following proper etiquette, she bowed to Kang-yun.

The pressure she felt was different from when she had faced him at Manhaedang. In Manhaedang, there had been a thin protective barrier around her, but in the Donggungjeon, there was none.

It felt as if she were laid bare before a beast.

However, she dared not show her fear; she simply endured it. Waiting for her to fully rise, Kang-yun opened his mouth first.

“You don’t look well. Is Manhaedang uncomfortable?”

His inquiry seemed more like a formality than genuine concern for her situation. Yeonhwa, taken aback that he would even notice her face, lowered her head even further.

“Thanks to Your Highness’s grace, I am enjoying things I have never experienced in my life; how could I dare to choose between comfort and discomfort?”

“You don’t seem so foolish as to forget my command after just a few days.”

It suddenly reminded her that he had instructed her to refer to herself as a commoner in his presence. Though she hesitated, fearing it was inappropriate, she could not defy the Crown Prince’s command.

“I am well, Your Highness.”

At that, she felt the air around her lighten considerably.

It seemed she had finally provided a response that pleased him. Perhaps his anger had eased a little. Amusingly, that slight change lifted the weight on her heart for a moment.

She had been so tense that she could hardly breathe, watching his every move. As her excessive tension relaxed, her heart began to open up.

Thus, Yeonhwa started to think about the gratitude she had felt tucked away in a corner of her heart. She had conveyed her greetings through Muheon, but she had never properly thanked Kang-yun.

Therefore, knowing it was an audacious act, she gathered her courage to express her gratitude to him.

“I do not know how to repay the grace bestowed upon me by Crown Prince.”

She lightly grasped his hand, which bore a faint scar. Fortunately, it seemed he understood her intent, as he raised an eyebrow in relief. It felt as if a layer of the wall that had stood between them had been removed. Foolishly and naively.

“The handkerchief you bestowed…”

“Burn it.”

In an instant, the atmosphere tightened around Yeonhwa, forcing her to close her mouth involuntarily. She had thought the flow had become somewhat relaxed, but that was merely her own delusion.

“How can something I dropped be considered a gift? It has become useless to me, so burn it.”

Kang-yun’s cold, piercing gaze bore down on her, leaving no room for doubt.

She had offended his mood. Although she could not understand how something given could now be deemed worthless, if the Crown Prince said so, it must be accepted. Yeonhwa bent her waist even lower, complying with his command.

“Yes. I shall do so.”

Kang-yun’s brow furrowed as he watched her shrink away. He had thought to let her stand tall today, but once again, he had made her feel smaller. Yet there was no choice.

Given the many eyes and ears in the palace focused on this woman, they would surely take great interest in their relationship.

If rumors spread that she had received something from the Crown Prince, the current gossip would become fact. Rumors provide both suspicion and belief, causing enemies to distance themselves.

Excessive beliefs were unwelcome here as well. She must indulge without leaving a trace and show need without revealing that she cared. In this bizarre tug-of-war, only Yeonhwa had to sway.

‘The moment I waver, I cannot guarantee even your life.’

She had left only a minimal number of people and had ordered them to keep silent, but believing that none among them were spies was naive, something only possible in childhood innocence.

“Bring it forth.”

At last, Kang-yun commanded, and the palace attendants brought something and placed it before Yeonhwa. It was the bi-gamgo. Yeonhwa’s eyes widened at the sight. It seemed he was trying to gauge her intentions. Kang-yun stared at Yeonhwa and tilted his head slightly.

“I wish to hear that melody again.”

Was it the magic of time? Or the confusion brought by his low voice? His usual sharpness appeared rather decadent today. Perhaps the sharpness of his gaze reflected an unfathomable desire.

“Can you do it?”

Though it was a question, it was clearly a command. Yeonhwa, who had been tense, seemed to calm herself before hardening her gaze.

“My skills are humble, but I will play with all my heart.”

Seating herself, she placed the Bi-gamgo on her lap. Her posture as she prepared to play and set her fingers on the strings was comparable to that of Seonumwon’s professional musicians.

Finally, the first string of the bi-gamgo was plucked by her fingertips.

The melody she had heard that night flowed out as if it were defying time.

Each note was played with careful precision, her touch both cautious and fluid, graceful yet deliberate. The woman shining under the fragmented moonlight did not lose her presence even in front of the dozens of candles.

Instead, she shone even brighter, leading everyone to be entranced by the music.

Then, a strong sense of déjà vu awakened Kang-yun’s senses, causing them to tremble. At the same time, a headache and dizziness began to torment him. This was a chronic symptom he experienced when under extreme tension or when he forcibly recalled memories of the past. Kang-yun tried to hide his discomfort and focused on the performance. And in that moment.

‘Could you play for me for the rest of your life?’

The remnants of a previously recalled memory struck him with greater force. This time, he could be sure it was his memory, sharper than before. When it had first arisen, he thought it was something someone had told him, but now he knew for certain.

‘Who am I…’