The sun was already tilting when Cheongya left the archive.
She walked. She didn't think about where she was going. Her legs moved, so she followed them. At some point she had dropped the book she'd been carrying—she didn't know when. Her eyes burned. Everything blurred at the edges.
She passed through the covered walkway, turned a corner, kept walking.
Her feet stopped in front of Wolha Hall.
She looked up at the doors. The king's working hall. She had never come here on her own.
The guards posted at the entrance bowed when they saw her.
"Your Highness."
Cheongya didn't answer. She walked past them and pushed the door open.
Inside Wolha Hall, it was quiet.
Cheonghyeon was reading through documents. Hyowon stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. When the door swung open, those gold eyes moved sharply.
Hyowon's brows lifted. Cheonghyeon raised his head.
Cheongya's face was wrong. She looked like she was about to cry, and the hand gripping her skirt had gone white at the knuckles. Cheonghyeon raised one hand, dismissing the flustered guards who had followed her in.
"……What happened."
Cheonghyeon spoke first. His voice was low, careful.
Cheongya stood at the threshold and looked at him. She looked for a long moment. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened it again.
"……You knew. From the beginning. All of it."
Cheonghyeon's hand went still. The fingers holding the brush stiffened, just slightly.
Hyowon pushed off the wall. The way he was watching her changed—not sharp now, but searching, like he was confirming something.
Cheonghyeon didn't answer. Not answering was its own answer.
Tears welled in Cheongya's eyes. She tried to hold them back. She had to hold them back. But Ihwa's face surfaced in her mind. The way he smiled. The warmth in his voice. The way his feet had stopped at the wall.
"I read it in the archive. The Chronicle of Cheonghwa's Founding…"
Each word came out unsteady.
"A Cheon-a born male loses his standing. When the blue moon rises——"
The words broke off. She couldn't bring herself to say what came next.
Wolha Hall was silent. Outside, a bird called. As if nothing were wrong.
Cheonghyeon set down his brush slowly.
"……Yes."
One word. Low, heavy, hiding nothing.
"I knew."
Cheongya's lips trembled. The sob rose. She swallowed it. It rose again. She clenched her teeth.
"Why didn't you tell me."
"What would it have changed?"
Cheonghyeon's voice wasn't cold. It was worn—exhausted—the voice of someone who had asked himself that same question hundreds of times.
"Whether you know, or I know, or Hyowon knows. Even if the gods themselves know. Nothing changes."
Cheongya shook her head.
"You still should have told me."
"Ihwa smiles every single day. He says he's fine!"
Her voice rose. There was a tremor running through it.
"There's no way he's fine."
At that, something in Cheonghyeon's eyes went dark. Hyowon's jaw set hard.
Silence settled over Wolha Hall. Long and heavy.
Cheonghyeon spoke first.
"So then."
He looked at her. Directly.
"What do you want to do."
It wasn't a test. It wasn't an accusation. He was asking in earnest. Now that you know—what are you going to do with it. What do you think you can actually do.
Cheongya couldn't answer.
What she could do. Was there anything? The records in the archive had been clear. The wards could not be broken. Divine punishment could not be escaped. Ihwa would die. If she lived, Ihwa died. Because she had been born a sacred woman. Because he had been born male.
There was nothing she could do.
Cheongya lowered her head. The grip on her skirt went slack. Her shoulders dropped.
Wolha Hall fell quiet again.
A long moment passed.
Cheongya raised her head.
Her eyes were red.
"……I can't."
Her voice was small.
"I can't do anything. I can't."
Cheonghyeon watched her.
"I can't break the wards. I can't stop the punishment. I can't die in his place."
Her voice shook, but it didn't break.
"But."
She drew a breath.
"Knowing this—I can't pretend I don't."
Cheonghyeon's eyes shifted, barely.
"I want Ihwa not to be lonely."
Cheongya looked at him straight on.
"I don't want to look away because I know the truth, or pretend not to see because I'm scared, and leave him alone like that."
Hyowon pulled his gaze from the window. He looked at her. Something passed through those gold eyes. The corner of his mouth lifted, just slightly.
Cheonghyeon said nothing.
For the first time, he was looking at her—really looking—and something settled in his expression.
On the day of the wedding ceremony, standing side by side on the red silk. When he had turned her away. When she had thanked him. When she had nursed Ihwa through his fever. He had never once looked at her face properly.
Guilt. Discomfort. Fear.
But now, for some reason, he could.
Her eyes were red. There were tear tracks on her cheeks. Her skirt was creased. Her hair had come loose. A person who knew there was nothing she could do—and said she wouldn't look away anyway.
Cheonghyeon's lips moved. No words came. Something was caught in his throat.
Hyowon exhaled quietly. He turned his head and looked up at the ceiling.
After a long moment, Cheonghyeon spoke.
"……Do what you want."
His voice was low. Too small to be permission, too gentle to be refusal. For the first time, a faint smile had found its way onto his face.
Cheongya stood there for a moment after hearing that.
Then she bowed. Deeply. The kind of bow she had never given before.
She turned and walked toward the door. Her hand was almost on it when she stopped.
She spoke without looking back.
"……I won't tell Ihwa. That I know."
The door closed.
Two people remained inside Wolha Hall.
Hyowon lowered his gaze from the ceiling. He looked at Cheonghyeon.
Cheonghyeon was staring down at the documents on his desk. The faint smile still on his face—he looked, somehow, at ease.
"…Does it feel a little better? Inside."
Cheonghyeon didn't answer.
Hyowon didn't ask again. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.
Outside the window, the sun was going down. The sky had turned red.