Carrying the Child of the Man Who Killed Me

Jihyuk stood in front of Wolha Palace, clad in armor, his cold gaze fixed on Yeocheong. He didn’t dismount from his horse, the sharpness in his eyes colder than Yeocheong had ever seen.

“Y-Your Majesty…”

It had been so long since Yeocheong had seen him, and he could never have imagined this sight. His hands trembled as he looked up at Jihyuk, stammering in his confusion. And yet, despite the iciness of Jihyuk’s gaze, Yeocheong felt a faint and foolish sense of joy just from seeing his face again.

“Are you heading to war? Has something happened? Why—why so suddenly…”

“Enough.”

But it wasn’t just Jihyuk’s look that was cold. His tone cut through Yeocheong’s words like a blade. After pausing to look down at him, Jihyuk spoke in a firm, distant voice.

“From today until I return to the capital, Queen Song Yeocheong’s authority is completely revoked.”

“What?”

Yeocheong had many privileges as queen, but he had never once tried to use or abuse them. Surely Jihyuk knew this – knew that there was no need to restrict what Yeocheong would never abuse. Then why?

His heart sank as confusion and fear filled him.

“And furthermore, Queen Song Yeocheong is forbidden to leave Wolha Palace until the war is over and I return to the capital.”

It was the same Jihyuk who had once restricted Yeocheong’s movements in winter out of concern for his health, even accompanying him to Hwayang for a retreat to ensure his comfort. But now he was confining Yeocheong to the palace without any reason or explanation, as if it were nothing.

“W-why? Your Majesty, please explain. What have I done wrong? If I was too stupid to realise my mistake…”

“Then stay quietly in Wolha Palace until I return.”

His words, spoken in an unfamiliar tone of condescension, shook Yeocheong to his core. Jihyuk turned his horse as if the conversation was over, as if Yeocheong’s questions did not deserve an answer.

“Your Majesty, please, Your Majesty! Tell me what I’ve done wrong. If you tell me, I’ll fix it – I’ll make it right!”

“Your Grace, please, calm down.”

A nearby servant murmured, trying to calm him.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”

Yeocheong ran after him, barefoot and desperate, oblivious to the cold ground beneath his feet. But Jihyuk didn’t look back, didn’t even pause. His retreating figure disappeared into the darkness, leaving Yeocheong alone with his unanswered pleas.

From that day on, Yeocheong’s personal hell began.

***

Within a few months, the once beautiful Wolha Palace had lost its lustre. Most of the staff were replaced, and the new attendants were openly hostile to Yeocheong.

“What is the point? His Majesty will throw him out as soon as he returns anyway.”

“Ugh, such a nuisance.”

There seemed to be no intention of harming him directly, but that was as far as their mercy went. Meals were still provided, but they were so meagre and poorly prepared that they could hardly be called food fit for a queen. His wardrobe, instead of being replenished, became increasingly sparse, with clothes mysteriously disappearing over time.

Yeon and Sowol, the servants who had served Yeocheong faithfully since their days in Song Nation, were transferred to other palaces less than a week after Jihyuk’s departure. Left all alone, Yeocheong no longer had a single person with whom he could exchange simple words.

With his world dismantled piece by piece, Yeocheong reverted to the habits he had developed in Song Nation – shutting himself in his room, existing as if he were a shadow, an invisible presence, no longer part of the world around him.

The only person Yeocheong could occasionally exchange a few words with was Seok, the head guard who had been assigned to escort him when he first left Song Nation. But their conversations were of little consequence.

“I heard you caught a cold. Are you feeling better now?”

“How is His Majesty doing?”

“The royal physician mentioned it briefly, but winter is approaching, so please take extra care. Keep warm and if you feel unwell, call the doctor immediately.

“You must keep in touch with His Majesty. Does he say anything about me? Even a small word would be enough…”

“I will see that the food supplies for the Wolha Palace are taken care of. Now please rest.”

Seok would routinely check on Yeocheong’s condition, and after each visit, the meals and overall treatment would improve slightly for a few days. But the answers Yeocheong really wanted were never forthcoming.

Trapped within the vast palace, Yeocheong could do nothing but think. He turned over the same questions in his mind again and again, like an unending cycle.

‘What did I do wrong? Why did His Majesty suddenly leave for the frontlines?’

No matter how many times he pondered, the answers remained elusive, his thoughts spiraling endlessly.

But no answers came. The more time passed, the more Yeocheong began to wonder if his very existence was the problem.

‘Was I unwanted from the beginning?’

He felt himself withering away under the weight of these thoughts.

As two more winters came and went, Yeocheong became a shadow in the palace—a figure so faded he wasn’t sure if anyone truly saw him anymore.

Ironically, it was only after he became the shadow of Wolha Palace that he began to hear things about Jihyuk. The servants, who no longer regarded him as their superior, made no effort to lower their voices or hide their gossip.

“His Majesty has won another great victory,” they said.

“He is incredible. No one will dare call the Yeon Nation a small country now. At this rate, it may even surpass the Song Nation in its prime.”

“They say it’s only a matter of time before the remaining territories fall. That means that the owner of this place will also change soon, right?”

“Of course! No matter how the war ends, once His Majesty returns, the ghost of Wolha Palace will be gone.”

‘Wolha Palace ghost’—that was the new name the attendants used to refer to Yeocheong. They no longer called him queen or even the mistress of Wolha Palace. He was simply a ghost now, a figure they no longer acknowledged.

“An imperial prince or whatever came and snatched the queen’s seat, but now our kingdom doesn’t have to rely on the Song Nation for anything, does it?”

The words stung. They cut deeper than Yeocheong wanted to admit, but he didn’t have the strength to argue, or anyone to argue with.

“If things had gone as expected, the lady of the Ryu family would have become queen. They didn’t hold the betrothal ceremony, but everyone assumed it was only a matter of time. And His Majesty… well, it was clear that he cared for her. “

“Exactly. Is there anyone in Yeon Nation as beautiful as Lady Ryu? They made such a perfect couple. And yet here we are, with a mere male Omega – not even a prime Omega – thinking he could…”

The voices were clear, cruel and deliberate, as if they wanted Yeocheong to hear every word. Perhaps they did.

‘The rumors about his lover weren’t just rumors… They were true.’

It felt like his heart had dropped into a bottomless pit. Yet even as the weight of that realization crushed him, Yeocheong clung to a fragile hope.

‘Even if it’s true, even if he loved someone else, he must have cared for me at least for a moment.’

He couldn’t believe that the laughter, the warmth, it had all been a lie. Even if Jihyuk had disliked him at first, the moments they had shared, the time they had spent smiling and caring for each other, couldn’t have been completely false.

This belief, no matter how small, was the only thing that kept Yeocheong going. It was his only thread of hope, the thought that when Jihyuk returned and saw him again, he would explain – tell him something, anything, to make sense of it all.

He had to believe it. It was the only thing he had left to hold on to.

It didn’t matter if it was a foolish belief. Yeocheong had decided that he wouldn’t believe anything unless he heard it directly from Jihyuk himself.

“You’ve lost more weight. Are you eating right?”

“……”

Despite his determination, Yeocheong grew thinner by the day. He had always been petite and slender, but now there was hardly anything left of him. His wrists, fragile and bony, could easily be encircled by the chief guard’s hand. Seeing them, the guard sighed deeply.

“If you continue to neglect your health like this… even His Majesty will be displeased.”

“His Majesty… mentioned me?”

At the mention of “His Majesty”, Yeocheong’s dull eyes suddenly lit up and he raised his head. The head guard, caught off guard, hesitated, his lips twitching as he considered how to respond. Finally, he let out another sigh, his expression conflicted.

“Even the smallest thing… anything. Please, just tell me something.”

His voice trembled with desperation, a stark contrast to the silence that filled Wolha Palace. It wasn’t the details he longed for – just any sign that Jihyuk had thought of him, no matter how trivial. It would be enough to keep him clinging to hope, if only for a little while longer.

Yeocheong’s voice was full of desperation. If Jihyuk cared for him even a little – if he had at least instructed Seok to take care of him – then maybe he could bear this life a little longer.

He recognised the sympathy in the worried look on the chief guard’s face, but it didn’t matter. For Yeocheong, even pity was a ray of light in the darkness, far better than contempt or indifference.

“When His Majesty returns, he will speak to you directly.”

Seok finally said, as if reluctantly making a promise for the future.

Hearing these words, Yeocheong’s face lit up with a faint, fragile smile.

“Then I will wait. Quietly, without causing trouble for His Majesty…”

“……”

Seok looked at him for a long moment, his expression pained, before he turned and left Wolha Palace.

But Yeocheong didn’t care. His thoughts clung to the promise, repeating over and over in his mind: His Majesty will return. When he does, he will speak to me himself.

The time Seok had spent there might not have been long, but for Yeocheong, only those three assurances mattered. They were enough to give him something to hold onto, even if only for a little while longer.

‘I don’t care what the attendants say. If it’s not something His Majesty tells me himself, none of it matters. So I have to eat well, sleep well, and make sure I don’t greet him with a pitiful face…’

With this in mind, Yeocheong forced himself to eat his meals, no matter how meagre, and to move his body a little every day. He didn’t want to look so weak and emaciated that he would be embarrassed in front of Jihyuk.

“He’s like a parasite, eating food he doesn’t deserve.”

“If it weren’t for Chief Seok, we’d let him starve. Why does the chief take care of him?”

“Because the chief is kindhearted. He’s been like that since he was young, always too caring for his own good.”

The cruel remarks, spoken loud enough for Yeocheong to hear, stung, but he endured them. The seemingly endless waiting was also bearable. As long as Jihyuk returned and explained things – no, just showed his face – it would all be worth it.

The seasons came and went in an unchanging routine, each day passing into the next. Then, one day, the news Yeocheong had longed to hear finally arrived: Jihyuk had completed his final battle and would soon return to the capital.

It had been three long years since Yeocheong had last seen the man he called his lover, the man who had walked away with such a cold expression on his face.