Dream of Affection

From the very first day I arrived here, I started having these dreams.

The place where I am is called Naenggung, the Cold Palace. It is said that, long ago, an emperor gifted this palace to a favored concubine. Despite living in a beautiful palace with mountains and flowing streams, the concubine was never granted freedom.

She was forbidden to leave the palace and eventually succumbed to her loneliness and passed away. Although this story isn’t recorded in official documents, it’s whispered among those who know that the concubine already had a lover when she caught the emperor’s eye and was elevated to her rank. Unable to forget her true love, she lived in confinement, ultimately dying from a broken heart.

After her death, the emperor sealed the palace doors, and the place remained abandoned for over a hundred years. It eventually became known as the Cold Palace, a place where concubines were sent to live out their days in isolation.

I have been here for a week now. I once possessed many things, but now I am nothing more than a dethroned princess. Isolated in a corner of this forgotten palace, hope feels scarce.

Every morning and evening, I am given a bowl of barley porridge and a teapot. The food appears silently, sliding through the narrow crack of an opened door, without a soul to hand it to me. In this vast palace, I am utterly alone. There isn’t even a shadow of another person, and I must endure this solitude by myself.

At first, I was terrified. The only items I had when I arrived were a single set of plain clothes, a blanket, and a pillow. I knew I had lived a life of privilege, so I worried about how I would survive the life of a prisoner in Naenggung.

Surprisingly, I am enduring better than I thought. I have never had a large appetite, and though I can be indulgent, I am also used to restraint, so the sparse meals don’t trouble me too much. Thankfully, a stream runs nearby, allowing me to wash without difficulty.

The absence of someone to talk to is lonely, but it also brings relief. Having spent my life worrying about others’ judgments, the solitude is oddly liberating. Lying on the wooden floor and breathing in the scent of the wind provides a strange comfort.

They say it’s almost impossible to survive the winter in Naenggung. The palace is in the north, inherently cold, and no firewood is provided. I don’t expect to survive the winter either, but until then, I wish to savor life in whatever way I can.

With more time on my hands, I’ve found myself lost in endless thoughts. Sometimes, I wonder if I have ever been this consumed with myself. Always living to meet others’ expectations, but now, I spend my days thinking about what I truly want. It isn’t as terrible as I feared.

But back to the dreams.

Since arriving at Naenggung, I’ve been having dreams that are bizarrely vivid, almost more real than reality itself. In those dreams, I become the “child” of my husband, Crown Prince Lee Yeon.

I should explain a bit about my husband. He is the Crown Prince of this country, the master of the Eastern Palace. He has been in this exalted position for quite some time, primarily because he is the emperor’s only legitimate son. But even without his noble lineage, he is a man of elegance, handsome and accomplished in both letters and arms.

Renowned as a calligrapher and respected as a statesman, he chose me as his first consort because of a legendary tale, but I’ll share that story another time. In any case, my husband is regarded by all as the perfect prince. He was kind to me, never withholding gestures like offering me a delicate flower.

At the time I was sent to Naenggung, he was away at war. People in the Eastern Palace whispered that had he been present, I might not have ended up here. But this is something I cannot definitively say. Perhaps he would have tried to save me, but even he might not have been able to.

I am the daughter of a traitor. My father, in his disloyalty, exploited the emperor’s name to accept bribes and serve his own interests. Corrupt officials are not rare, but to dare to use the emperor’s name was a treasonous act, deserving of death. My father, being who he was, left me no room for defense. Even after I was appointed Crown Princess, he used my name to stir up all sorts of trouble.

For a long time, my husband, Prince Lee Yeon, protected me from my father’s wrongdoings. But once he left for battle, no one remained to shield my father from punishment. Though I heard that the Crown Prince spoke firmly to him before leaving, greed is not something that words can suppress.

As a traitor’s daughter, I was dethroned and sent to Naenggung. When the decree was issued, the emperor himself presented me with my father’s severed head.

I’m still not sure what that gesture meant. I thanked the emperor according to custom, but even now, I can’t fathom its true intention. Was it a warning to accept my fate quietly or a cruel reminder to be scarred by my father’s death?

I did not close my father’s eyes as they stared back at me, lifeless. We were never on good terms. I never wanted to become the Crown Princess. Although I couldn’t say it out loud, it was true. I don’t want to mourn a father whose greed led to the suffering of so many, myself included. I wonder what became of my mother, my sisters, my brothers, and the loyal servants. Perhaps, in death, he has found peace, though true peace is beyond reach for the condemned. A traitor’s body is scattered to the four corners, cursed to wander the void forever. It suits him.

I think it is also fitting that I fell from grace while the Crown Prince was away. He was always kind to me, and I have no wish to see him suffer for me or look at me with disappointment.

Perhaps this was the most merciful ending for both of us. If this fate was meant to be, it unfolded in the most compassionate way possible.

Another dream.

These dreams always trouble me.

“Yoo-eum!”

Every time I wake up in my dream, I see this woman. She is the empress in my dream.

With a small face adorned by a beauty mark near her eye, she is lovely, her delicate features perfectly arranged. In my dream, she is the second consort of my husband, Crown Prince Lee Yeon. She became the Crown Princess after I was sent to Naenggung, later ascending to empress. She is different from me in many ways, but one thing is clear: she dearly loves her daughter.

“Are you awake now? How do you feel?” she asked.

Ah, here we go again.

In my dreams, it always starts with me fainting. So, when the child in my dream wakes up, it means that I have fallen asleep in reality. Last night, startled by the birds’ loud chirping, I woke up in the middle of tea time with the empress. I must have given her quite a scare.

“I am fine, Mother,” I replied.

“Physician!” she called, ignoring my assurance. Her voice was sharp, and the court physician, looking exhausted, rushed over. He had the haggard appearance of someone who had been through a rough time, undoubtedly due to the empress’s relentless worry while I was unconscious.

“If anything happens to Yoo-eum, I will have you flayed alive!” she threatened.

Her threats were more than empty words, and that would have been enough to make the physician tremble. I cast him an apologetic glance.

He checked my pulse, his gaunt cheeks twitching as he looked from me to the empress and back again. I knew what he was going to say, so I spoke first.

“You may go, Physician. Thank you for your efforts.”

“Yoo-eum!” the empress called, her voice shaking.

“Mother, I am perfectly healthy, and the physician knows it. I only fainted because it hasn’t been long since that event.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. That event. She often said that just thinking about it made her heart stop. Even now, her eyes welled up. She was a mother who loved her daughter dearly.

“If anything happens to Yoo-eum, I will see to it that your entire family is destroyed, remember that!” she snapped at the physician.

Whether she was a good empress or not, I could not say.

The empress, grinding her teeth, dismissed the physician with a wave. Relieved more by the chance to leave than by the threat of family annihilation, he quickly bowed and departed, looking visibly lighter as he rushed out. Watching his retreating form, I felt a pang of guilt. If only I hadn’t woken so abruptly yesterday. Even if it’s a dream, facing these trials is exhausting.

“Yoo-eum,” the empress said, taking my hand in hers. I felt a familiar sense of guilt wash over me. No matter how dreamlike it was, this woman was a mother who loved her daughter. If she knew that the soul inhabiting her beloved child was actually that of the dethroned consort she likely resented, how furious would she be?

“I am truly fine, Mother,” I reassured her.

Yet, I didn’t know what to feel for this woman. In this dream world, or even if it wasn’t reality, she had taken everything I once had—my husband, my palace, my people. Everything was now hers.

Still, I couldn’t simply feel guilty or apologetic toward her. After all, I didn’t choose to inhabit the body of her daughter, Princess Yoo-eum. It had all started due to one childish act by the young princess.

Princess Yoo-eum is the empress’s only child. Ordinarily, failing to bear an heir would have put the empress in a difficult position, but the political climate of my dream’s imperial court was different.

The emperor—my former husband, Crown Prince Lee Yeon—had many concubines and children with various women, yet none had given birth to a son. The fact that he had over twenty children but not a single male heir became a troubling rumor, weaving its way through the palace halls.

Unfairly, I was believed to be the cause of this misfortune. According to what I heard in my dreams, I had died years before, and palace staff whispered that I had cursed the Crown Prince out of spite.

Ridiculous. I had no reason to curse him. He couldn’t have saved me; at that time, he was only the Crown Prince, under the close watch of the emperor. He was young, beautiful, and strong.

He was graceful in all his actions, discerning in judgment, just in his duties, compassionate to his subordinates, and respectful to his superiors. Everyone praised him… which, perhaps, was why the emperor resented him. The emperor often favored other princes and distanced himself from Lee Yeon.

Sometimes, when his heart was heavy, the Crown Prince would drink a cup or two of wine. I remember sitting beside him, unsure of what to say, just watching. How could I ever harbor resentment or cast a curse upon him?

But the tongues of the court are as light as feathers. They believed I had cursed him. So, they sealed off my room in Naenggung with charms and talismans. And one night, Princess Yoo-eum stood before that sealed door.