Chapter 23:
The Queen (4)
“Impossible…!”
The queen stood before them, walking into the Uigeumbu in perfect health. Jang Nok-su’s pale face and crimson lips twisted, trembling uncontrollably. The queen, wearing an elegant smile, seemed to savor the unfolding scene as if it were a performance. Ji-yeong drove the point home with a resolute voice.
“The tiramisu presented to Gyotaejeon contained no wheat flour. Instead, it was made with rice flour and chestnut flour. That’s why Her Highness the Queen suffered no ill effects.”
“A true delicacy,” the queen added lightly, her tone warm and gracious.
Nok-su’s lips quivered once more.
“Then I’ve been making a fuss over nothing,” Yeonsangun said, his anger visibly subsiding. “It’s a bit embarrassing, but I’m relieved to know the queen is unharmed.” His gaze fell on Ji-yeong, still bound to the torture rack. “What are you waiting for? Release this girl at once.”
At his command, the officers in magpie attire hurriedly untied the ropes. The bindings that had constricted Ji-yeong’s shoulders and limbs loosened, and a tingling rush of blood coursed through her body. But the moment of relief was fleeting—she still had unfinished business.
“Your Majesty, if I may be so bold, this is not ‘nothing,’” Ji-yeong said.
“What? What do you mean?” Yeonsangun, about to leave the Uigeumbu, turned back with a sharp expression.
Ji-yeong began to speak, her voice calm and deliberate. “Just moments ago, Sukyong Jang clearly stated that ignorance is also a crime. That ordering food in ignorance is a sin, and preparing food in ignorance is an even greater sin.”
“Your Majesty, no! This is absurd sophistry!” Nok-su, realizing Ji-yeong’s intent, interjected swiftly, but it was too late to turn the tide.
Unfazed, Ji-yeong pressed on. “Your Majesty, there were two people here who were ‘ignorant.’ One was me, and the other was Sukyong Jang over there. But in truth, I was not ignorant of the queen’s condition, so I prepared a dish that would cause her no harm. Thus, of those two, I cannot be considered guilty.”
Ji-yeong’s piercing gaze delivered her next words like a blade. “So, who remains guilty now?”
“You wench! How dare you wag your wicked tongue!” Nok-su shrieked, her composure shattered.
Perhaps she realized the sharp blade she had wielded to expose others’ faults was now turned against her. Her body trembled, her calm long gone.
“There is truth in her words,” the queen said quietly, yet with undeniable force, her smile unwavering. “As Sukyong herself said, ignorance is a crime. This situation could have endangered not only me but the prince in my womb.”
“Your Highness…” Nok-su stammered.
“As Sukyong herself declared, this matter warrants severe punishment,” the queen continued.
“Forgive me, I beg you!” With those words, Jang Nok-su collapsed at the queen’s feet, prostrating herself.
It was an unprecedented sight. According to protocol, a third-rank concubine like Sukyong was expected to show respect to the queen, the head of the inner court. Yet, until this moment, no one had ever seen her do so. The arrogant Jang Nok-su, now trembling and kneeling before the queen, was a spectacle. The queen gazed down at her, her face as refined as Joseon porcelain, though her inner thoughts were likely far less serene.
“Your Majesty, words spoken cannot be taken lightly, lest the sanctity of the law be undermined. Today, a stern example must be set,” the queen said, her voice cold.
Everyone present could feel it: the queen would not let this pass. The gentle queen, known for never speaking harshly even to the lowliest maids, now demanded Nok-su’s punishment with unwavering resolve. Nok-su’s kneeling form quaked like an aspen leaf, ensnared by the intricate accusation she herself had crafted, compounded by the queen’s clear intent to punish her. Even someone as cunning as Nok-su could not escape this trap. A tense silence, sharp as a blade, hung over the Uigeumbu.
“I shall issue a decree,” Yeonsangun said at last, breaking his long silence.
The room held its breath, wary even of making a sound, as they awaited his judgment.
“Until further notice, Sukyong Jang Nok-su is confined indefinitely. She is not to take a single step outside Chwihongwon.”
“I obey Your Majesty’s command!” Shin Soo-hyuk, the Captain of the Royal Guard, responded with a booming voice, bowing deeply.
At that, Nok-su, trembling faintly, dropped her head and collapsed to the floor.
“Your grace… is boundless…” she murmured.
Though it wasn’t a death sentence, for Nok-su, it was no less severe. For the first time, a crack had appeared in the lofty status of the woman who clung to the king’s side, wielding influence like a second tongue. The eyes she met in Yeonsangun’s gaze were colder than she had ever seen.
“The trial is concluded. Return to the palace at once,” Yeonsangun declared, turning away with a chill that seemed to stir the air. The gathered officials followed in a rush, leaving the crumpled Nok-su behind.
“Head Cook! That was so close!” Jang-geum rushed to Ji-yeong, tears welling in her eyes, as the situation resolved.
Indeed, Jang-geum’s role in this affair was indispensable. Escorting the queen here required someone utterly trustworthy.
“Thank you, Jang-geum. You practically saved my life,” Ji-yeong said.
“Don’t say that! Let’s get back to the kitchen—I don’t want to stay here a second longer,” Jang-geum replied, grabbing Ji-yeong’s arm and pulling her along, anxious not to fall behind the departing crowd.
And then, another pair of eyes watched Ji-yeong.
“I’ll never… never forgive you.”
From the cold Uigeumbu floor, Nok-su glared at Ji-yeong’s retreating figure, her eyes unblinking, filled with a chilling fury. The venomous resolve to repay this humiliation tenfold burned within her.
“By the way, you there—don’t just stand around. Bring some refreshments. All this fuss has left me hungry,” Yeonsangun said abruptly, addressing Ji-yeong as he left the Uigeumbu.
“I obey Your Majesty’s command,” Ji-yeong replied, startled by the sudden order, bowing hastily.
Glancing at the queen, she was surprised to see her gazing back with a gentle look. In that moment, Ji-yeong understood—the queen was silently thanking her with her eyes. All Ji-yeong could do was return the sentiment with a look of her own. Though no words were spoken, their silent exchange was as meaningful as a conversation. Their covert collaboration had succeeded brilliantly, forging a bond between them.
Watching this subtle moment, one sharp observer grasped the full context in an instant—Doseungji Im Sung-jae.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
The incident was a decisive victory for the queen and Ji-yeong over Nok-su. But what truly stood out was that the key to their triumph lay not with the queen, but with Ji-yeong, the foreign woman. Im Sung-jae, ever perceptive, hadn’t missed the flicker of unease in Yeonsangun’s eyes when he saw Ji-yeong bound to the torture rack, however briefly.
“She might be more useful than I thought,” Im Sung-jae mused, his narrow eyes glinting like a serpent’s as he watched Ji-yeong.
…
A few days later, in the palace gardens.
At the northern end stood a peculiar earthen structure managed by the Jangwonseo, the office responsible for cultivating flowers and fruits for the palace. Its walls, made of mud and straw, were like those of any common house, but the roof was what drew attention. Instead of tiles or thatch, it was fitted with slanted wooden frames covered in oiled hanji paper, allowing sunlight to flood the interior.
Inside, an even more astonishing sight unfolded. The floor was covered in fine soil, as if a garden had been brought indoors. Rows of vegetables, fruits, and flowers flourished in the furrows, a vibrant display of life.
“This… this is the world’s first… greenhouse,” Ji-yeong marveled, her eyes wide as she took in the Jangwonseo’s earthen structure—built, she knew, 170 years before the greenhouse in Heidelberg, Germany. Seeing this space, known to her only from history books, was a breathtaking moment.
“The floor is fitted with an ondol system,” Yeonsangun explained, having personally brought Ji-yeong here to show it off. “It keeps the greenhouse warm even in winter, so there’s nothing we can’t grow—flowers, vegetables, fruits.”
“Amazing…”
Ji-yeong slipped off her shoes and stepped barefoot onto the soil, feeling its moist, warm, fertile texture underfoot. Despite the chilly air outside, the greenhouse was a world apart, brimming with colorful blooms and fruits, their fragrant, fresh scents filling the space.
“It’s incredible. How could such a place exist in this era…?”
“This era…?” Yeonsangun caught her slip, but Ji-yeong realized her mistake too late. He seemed unbothered, though.
“It’s thanks to the dozens of Jangwonseo workers who manage it meticulously every day.”
“That… must take extraordinary effort.”
“Well, if the plants don’t grow properly, the workers face execution by dismemberment.”
Of course, Yeonsangun would solve the labor-intensive task of maintaining a year-round artificial greenhouse with such a ruthless approach.
“What do you think? Do you like it?”
“Absolutely. It’s remarkable.”
“Then I grant you special permission. You may enter and use this place whenever you wish.”
Ji-yeong’s eyes widened in shock. The man who constantly spoke of death, punishment, and dismemberment was suddenly acting so generously?
“You’re letting me use this place? Why…?”
Yeonsangun looked at her as if the question were absurd.
“So you can procure out-of-season vegetables and fruits. Have you already forgotten my warning that serving food not to my taste will lead to execution?”
“Oh… right.”
Of course. Every command from Yeonsangun boiled down to one thing: preparing new and delicious meals for him each evening. Failure to do so even once could cost Ji-yeong her life.
Suddenly, this place feels a bit less appealing…” she muttered.
“What did you say?”
“N-nothing, Your Majesty. Shall we head back?”
As the two walked slowly through the flower-lined paths, they looked, from a distance, like a scene from a painting.
…
At the same time, in the Hongmun-gwan.
In this place, where the palace’s scriptures and documents were recorded and stored, a young official in government robes was frantically searching for something. One might assume he was looking for a scripture or a historical draft, but this official’s behavior suggested otherwise. He rummaged through cabinets, brush holders, and bookshelves as if on a treasure hunt.
Suddenly, his bloodshot eyes widened as if he had found something. In his hands was a small, locked wooden box sealed with an iron chain. Breaking the seal and opening the box, his face turned ashen. Cold sweat beaded on his skin, and his fingers trembled. Hastily stuffing the box into his robes, he rushed out of the Hongmun-gwan.
After glancing around several times to ensure no one was watching, he made a beeline for Geonchunmun, the eastern gate of Gyeongbokgung Palace.
“What’s the matter? It’s not yet time to leave the palace,” said a guard at the gate.
“I am Lee Jang-gon, a Hongmun-gwan official. I have urgent business on His Majesty’sorders. It’s a matter of utmost haste!”
The gate creaked open, and the sound of galloping hooves soon echoed through the heart of the capital. Lee Jang-gon, the young official, rode with a grim determination in his eyes, his robes fluttering as he spurred his horse forward.
