Chapter 11: The Wastrel’s Secret Burden

“The medicine you were taking.”

The first prince was on drugs?

“Why do you ask?” Grandfather’s face hardened suddenly.

“Could it be… you abused the last batch?”

His expression reminded me of something from Hyeolyunseong—getting chewed out by the lord for wrecking a wall during a brawl.

Same look as now.

I waved it off. “Abused? No way. Never did that.”

“…I’ll trust you.”

But his face screamed disbelief.

“Could just ask Eunuch Han and find out.”

Who’d believe a wastrel, right?

Not my sins, but I’m stuck with them.

“Want to check?”

He offered readily.

No harm in it.

I nodded and headed inside. Eunuch Han, who’d been outside with us, followed.

In the reception room, grandfather gestured to the bundle.

Unwrapping it revealed a wooden box filled with neatly packed herbs.

“Two months’ worth, as usual.”

“What?”

His casual words stunned me. Two months? That’s an excessive amount.

Whatever this drug’s for, it’s too much.

And “as usual” means he’s been bringing this regularly?

He came for the duel talk, sure, but this drug was the bigger reason.

“Two months’ worth, you say?”

“Why ask as if it’s new?”

A sharp scent rose from the herbs. Familiar, somehow. After a quick mental search, I pinned it down.

This so-called medicine was Jongmeoki flower, a poisonous herb.

Chew its petals, and pain dulls, drowsiness hits. Too much, and your breathing slows. Grows far from the capital, if I recall.

Basically, a narcotic.

Dangerous enough to be banned. Jongmeoki’s sale and use have been illegal for ages.

Getting it can’t be easy. Smuggling’s risky, and the price must be steep.

Yet a generalissimo’s supplying it to the first prince? It’s not just unavailable in the capital—possession alone’s a crime.

And not just once, but regularly? Why?

“Planning to poison someone?”

“A jest?”

He replied, humorless.

“Yeah, a jest.”

Not really, but I played it off, closing the box.

Can’t blab about memory loss to him, so I’ll ask Han later.

This stuff’s unnecessary.

“This is the last of it. Don’t bring more.”

I know my body best. I don’t need this narcotic.

It’s not just unneeded—it’s poison to me.

Two spoonfuls of dried Jongmeoki powder at once could kill. Long-term use, even in small doses, brings addiction.

Addiction weakens tendons, making movement hard.

That’d end my swordsman life.

No issues yet, but who knows? Hope it’s not too late.

Why the hell was this wastrel eating this crap?

“You won’t take it anymore?”

“Yes.”

He eyed me skeptically.

“Your Highness.”

Treating me like a kid.

Sure, I’m young compared to him.

“Really, I don’t need it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Think I’d lie about this? It’s no joking matter.”

Still, he didn’t buy it, staring like I should take it back.

Not even a serious glare, but the mood was heavy. No wonder Han called him strict.

To palace-bound folks like Han, a warrior like grandfather must seem terrifying.

Doesn’t faze me. To intimidate me, you’d need someone like that Hwaweiguk butcher.

Even then, what’s the worst? Death? I’ve died once—fear’s long gone.

Anyway.

“I’m done. No need.”

“Your condition isn’t for me to guess.”

Don’t get cocky, huh? I’m a prince, come on.

“I know my body best. Who’d know it better?”

“If you insist.”

He nodded and stepped back.

That was that. He didn’t linger, leaving Hyeonnyeongdang.

But at the porch, one foot on the step, he asked, “You’re quite different from last time. May I ask why?”

No beating around the bush. Asking as grandfather, not generalissimo.

He wanted some grand tale. But I had none to give.

“People change.”

His face showed disappointment.

He won’t trust or respect me yet.

Generalissimo So isn’t swayed by half a day’s meeting.

His trust is heavy, hard to earn, but worth it.

“I’ll see you again.”

He bowed and left, his silk robes swaying.

I muttered to his retreating back, unthinking. “Kinda jealous.”

“You’re saying I wanted this stuff?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And the tea was brewed with it?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The tea Han kept serving was Jongmeoki.

So I’ve been drugged up all along. I might be addicted.

“Just in case, I’ll taper off.”

All harmful substances, especially drugs, have withdrawal. Stopping cold needs time for the body to adjust.

Jongmeoki’s potent enough to be banned.

“Why was I taking it?”

All I could say to this new bombshell was this.

“Well…” Han hesitated.

“Han.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Don’t drag it out. I don’t remember, okay?”

I propped my feet on the table, wastrel-style.

Arrogant pose, sure, but I was tired of sitting straight.

My body was already aching.

This damn body. A prince, eating the best, yet so poorly kept.

If I meet this guy in a dream, I’ll beat him senseless.

“Well… Your Highness ordered silence…”

“Not in front of me, right?”

“That’s…”

Han clammed up. Seems the first prince forbade talk of the drug even with him.

This guy’s more complex the more I learn.

A complicated lunatic.

“I take it back. Spill it. Clearly.”

Han hesitated, then opened up.

Here’s the story.

“Your Highness was born with an overly sensitive nature.”

The first prince’s own words. No reason to doubt, unless he was scheming to fool even Han.

But this wastrel didn’t seem that clever.

“Sensitive, huh?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

How sensitive? Needed to dig deeper.

“Hard to say… Eyes, ears, nose, tongue—everything was so sensitive, you didn’t know how to describe it.”

His words got murkier.

“You said clothes chafed with every move. Begging pardon, but… you often snapped at me just for being nearby.”

“Was I just picky, or how’d you know? Maybe I was messing with you.”

Han shook his head quietly. “No, Your Highness.”

“How’re you so sure?”

He bristled, indignant. “I’ve served you twenty-three years. How could I not know my master’s heart after so long?”

The first prince is twenty-four this year.

So Han’s known him since infancy.

He didn’t turn wastrel overnight, so Han’s had it rough.

No wonder he looks old.

“Some… chronic illness?”

Felt ominous saying it. That’d be a headache.

But Han shook his head. No illness, thankfully.

Instead, he added, “However…”

“What?”

“Begging pardon, but if someone called Your Highness unique, I’d have no counter. Yet how dare I pry into secrets you wished hidden? Or dig to sate my curiosity? So I don’t know details. Even the physicians don’t know your condition.”

Top secret?

“Only I knew?”

“To my knowledge, one other knew.”

“Knew”? Past tense? Ominous.

No way…

“…The deposed queen?”

Han replied heavily, “Indeed, Your Highness.”

Of course, it’s a dead person.

The only two who knew this body’s secret are gone.

“No one else?”

“Begging pardon, I don’t know. Forgive me.”

“Damn it” was all I could say.

“Fine. No more tea with this stuff.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“From now on, tell me exactly what you’re serving.”

“I will, Your Highness.”

I shook off the tangled thoughts.

If there was a reason for taking Jongmeoki, stopping might reveal it.

Time would sort the rest.

The next day, I called Yu Geung to loosen my stiff body and pretended to scour the palace archives for the crow’s identity.

The crow shivered all day, scared I’d win our bet.

It was funny, so I tossed out that crow meat might taste good.

Two days later, another letter came from grandfather.

Not from him—someone else wanted to meet me.