Dream of Affection

“H-Her Highness, how… how is this possible…?”

The head attendant held up my embroidery, turning it back and forth in the light streaming through the window. Her disbelief was palpable as she examined it from all angles. I tried to recall how skilled I had been at embroidery at the age of twelve. Vague memories floated back—I had been competent but certainly not to the standard of my adult self at twenty-one.

I had tried to adjust my skills accordingly, aiming for something more appropriate for a child, but had I miscalculated and made it too refined?

“Such flawless embroidery! Your Highness, I am overwhelmed with emotion…!” another attendant exclaimed, cutting herself off with sudden tears.

Why? Why were they so moved? I couldn’t understand. For a princess, embroidery was a basic skill.

The attendants looked at me, eyes shimmering with pride as if they had witnessed a miracle. Confusion washed over me. Was I supposed to react? Smile? Say something? Their eyes seemed to expect it.

Yet, the life of living as Princess Yoo-eum, with all its unexpected scrutiny and strange reactions, was more complex than I could have ever imagined. Even more so for me—someone who was, in reality, Consort Shim, cast out to Naenggung, and now navigating this bizarre, vivid dream where each day tested the boundaries of what I thought possible.

I soon discovered why they were so moved. They pulled out Princess Yoo-eum’s previous embroidery pieces, and it all made sense. I was genuinely shocked by what I saw. Never in my life had I encountered such clumsy, haphazard embroidery.

Did she hold the needle with her toes? I knew that couldn’t be true, yet her work was so poorly executed that it made me wonder. Even my first attempt at embroidery at the age of three had been better than these.

I felt my face contort in disbelief. Who exactly was this princess? By twelve years old, she should have at least ten years of embroidery practice. How could she create work that looked as if it were made by a ghost with no eyes? While it was well-known that she was unruly, I’d never heard anything about her fingers being incapable.

Since I was now inhabiting the body of this princess, the embarrassment fell on me. My cheeks flushed red with shame, and I felt lost for words as the two attendants glanced at each other, putting the disastrous works back in a basket and tentatively asked:

“Sh-should we dispose of these?”

The words “Throw it away, it’s garbage” were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them. After all, these were not mine to discard.

“Leave them. Th-those as well.”

It took more courage than I thought possible to say that.

“They’re mine.”

The idea that those disasters were my works was mortifying. And having to claim them as such? It was excruciating. If only things had ended there, but unfortunately, they didn’t.

That evening, I was summoned by the Empress Dowager. When I arrived at her quarters, I was greeted by the sight of the woman I once served as empress—my mother-in-law in reality, now the Empress Dowager in my dream. Age had taken some of her beauty, but the grace that defined her had only deepened. I bowed, only to hear the sharp clatter of a teacup hitting the floor.

The Empress Dowager had been so shocked that she stood up abruptly, knocking over her teacup. The maids rushed forward on their knees, cleaning up the mess quickly, but even then, her gaze never left me, as though she had seen a ghost. For a fleeting moment, I felt exposed, like my true identity had been discovered.

Then, she extended her hand.

The head attendant placed a handkerchief in it, and the Empress Dowager dabbed at her eyes delicately.

“Heavens… did you see that perfect display of etiquette, Lady Un?” she said, voice trembling with emotion.

Huh?

I raised my head to see Lady Un looking at me with wide eyes, her hand covering her mouth as if suppressing a scream. I almost frowned but kept my expression neutral, as was proper. When I offered a small, polite smile, Lady Un let out a soft gasp.

“Your Highness, congratulations.”

Congratulations? I didn’t understand. Why was she congratulating me?

The Empress Dowager stepped forward and helped me rise, her eyes shining.

“My dear princess, you have matured so much. My heart is at peace now.”

What?

I smiled as if I understood, but I was utterly lost.

“Such perfect manners… See? I never doubted that you were capable of such grace,” she continued.

“Mother,” said the Empress, who had accompanied me, beaming as brightly as a flower in full bloom. The Empress Dowager extended her other hand toward her.

“You taught her well. I haven’t seen such impeccable manners in a long time. Not since… well, it doesn’t matter. It’s perfect. Simply perfect.”

The Empress’s smile faltered for a moment but quickly returned. Something subtle passed between the two, a hint of tension I couldn’t quite place. Was it a mother-in-law versus daughter-in-law rivalry? Regardless, the Empress smiled brightly again and said, “Your praise honors me, Mother.”

That day, I dined with both the Empress Dowager and the Empress, learning a few new things. Firstly, Princess Yoo-eum was, to put it bluntly, a troublemaker. At twelve, she had learned nothing she was supposed to, was terrible with etiquette, and only liked riding horses and archery.

Unsurprisingly, this had caused friction with her tutors, but the Empress, who adored her daughter, would never reprimand her, instead directing her frustration at the tutors. Yoo-eum, aware that her mother would never scold her, paid little attention to her tutors’ lessons. And so, she reached the age of twelve with only the most basic skills.

But the real issue lay in the current state of the imperial court. Princess Yoo-eum, as a princess, normally wouldn’t hold much sway in the power structure. But as I mentioned before, the situation in this dream was different. The emperor—my husband in real life—had fathered over twenty children, but none were boys.