My deep soul

Chapter 40

The heavy doors of the palace chamber closed behind Jinyoen with a dull echo. She moved forward with measured steps, her hanbok whispering across the polished floor. Queen Jiso sat high upon the dais, her face sharp with fury barely contained. The air itself seemed thick with her displeasure.

“Leave my son,” the queen spat before Jinyoen could even bow. Her voice was sharp enough to cut. “Did you know he rejected Princess Sookmyung because of you? He wants to make you his queen. As if I would allow such a thing.”

Jinyoen’s gaze lifted slowly to meet the queen’s. She smiled faintly, but it was not a smile of warmth—rather one of calm defiance.

“And why is that?” Jinyoen asked softly, almost musing. “Surely not because of my birth. I am of noble blood—one of the highest ranks, if I may add. Could it be… something more personal?”

The queen’s face twisted. “You dare feign ignorance?” she growled. “Your family has never respected the royals. You are a disgrace—”

“Stop it, Your Majesty.” Jinyoen’s voice was steady, cutting through the tirade like a blade. She took a single step closer, her black eyes burning. “If we truly meant to disrespect the royals, do you not think we would have dethroned you long ago?”

“You—how dare you?” Jiso’s voice rose, shrill with outrage.

“Hold your horses, Jiso.” Jinyoen’s voice turned cold, venom wrapped in silk. “You are sitting on something that doesn’t even belong to you in the first place.”

The queen shot up from her seat, trembling with anger. “You dare—you dare to speak to me that way? I am the Queen of Silla!”

“Yes,” Jinyoen answered, her own voice rising for the first time, steady and unyielding. “I dare. Because I am the daughter of King Haneul—the rightful king of Silla. The very king you killed, along with his son.”

Jiso staggered as though struck, her eyes widening.

With deliberate calm, Jinyoen reached into her sleeve and drew out a golden necklace. She held it up, the chain catching the light of the torches.

“Can you identify this?” she asked.

The queen’s breath caught. Her eyes fixed on the piece, recognition flashing across her face. It was the necklace once gifted to the late king’s son, a symbol of rightful succession.

“This,” Jinyoen said, her voice ringing clear, “is the necklace my father received at birth from the late king himself. This is the proof—his rightful claim. I did not die, Jiso. And as you see, the throne is *my* birthright. I have more right to sit upon it than your son ever will.”

The queen faltered, her fury quaking into silence.

“But,” Jinyoen continued, lowering the necklace slowly, “I did not bring this forward before. Why? Because I do not want the throne. I am not interested in it. But mark my words, Jiso—” her eyes narrowed, voice like thunder contained within silk—“if you try to harm me, or meddle with me again, I will not hesitate to claim what is mine. And knowing Jinheung…” Her lips curved faintly, knowingly. “He will give me the throne without a fight. Because to him, nothing matters more than me.”

The queen’s hands curled into fists, but she said nothing. Her silence was heavier than any scream.

Jinyoen bowed, but her eyes never left Jiso’s. Then, with graceful defiance, she turned and walked away, leaving the queen trembling in her own fury and fear.

---

It was late evening when Jidiwi stormed into clinic chamber, his strides sharp and unyielding. His face—normally calm despite his inner storms—was twisted with fury. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands clenched so tight his knuckles whitened.