Chicken Soup
A long queue stretched before him, at least around fifty subjects of Hwachon, all belonging to the southern estate. Strangely, yet not unexpectedly, the line consisted only of the elderly and middle-aged women. One of them was an old man with eyes sunken deep beneath loose, sagging skin, his clothes worn thin with age. Another was an elderly woman, perhaps around fifty-four, clutching a heavy sack of grains to her chest.
There was also a group of female dancers standing together. They wore graceful costumes made of soft, flowing fabric- translucent, yet opaque enough to conceal their intimate parts. Out of respect for the Princess, each had wrapped a large piece of wool around her shoulders, the cloth cascading down to their feet. Their faces were also veiled, covered with translucent fabric that matched the red and pink tones of their garments.
Right, Dohyun needed to enter the chamber that lay beyond the hall. He had to deliver the soup and convince the Princess.
The courtroom itself was vast, though less extravagantly decorated than the rest of the palace. Giant copper walls rose high, reaching the ceiling, where a unique mural was etched-- a golden flower blooming above its subjects like a chandelier, the pride and symbol of Hwachon itself. Along the sides of the roof were carefully designed windows, positioned to allow sunlight to stream directly into the hall, thereby reducing the need for lanterns.
It almost appeared as though the golden flower was showering its celestial blessings upon the people below, the sunlight dispersing through the windows and reflecting upon the blossom.
Dohyun thought to himself that this place never ceased to surprise him with its beauty. Perhaps it was true, beauty required a beautiful place to reside. This palace resonated deeply with the Princess. Now, he finally understood why Hwa Miye was called the Flower Princess.
The chamber he needed to reach lay beyond the sea of people before him. Cutting the line for his own gain was not something he had been taught to do. Thus, he quietly joined the queue.
The wait felt endless.
At this rate, the soup would grow cold and become useless to the Princess. He couldn't win over a sick person with cold soup now, could he?
Disheartened, Dohyun realized this was not the right moment. His feathery lashes lowered, his face sinking with despair, though he tried his best to conceal it.
He stepped away from the line and walked toward the far end, where a young girl of about sixteen stood waiting. Her complexion was ghastly, her expression tense and on edge. She clasped her trembling hands into tight fists, silently waiting for her turn.
"Um… excuse me, Miss."
The girl had been muttering constantly under her breath, but the deep voice interrupted her thoughts. She jolted violently at the sound. Seeing how startled she was, Dohyun immediately took two steps back.
"Please forgive my interruption," he said gently. "If you don't mind, could you deliver this bowl of soup to the Princess for me? You're next in line, and by the time my turn comes, the soup will grow cold. You can tell her it was sent by her maid, Sung Chunhee."
"S-Stay… S-Stay back!"
The girl shoved him, fury blazing in her almond-shaped eyes. The bowl nearly slipped from his grasp, but Dohyun reacted swiftly, steadying the tray just in time. He retreated a few more steps and spoke calmly,
"If you don't wish to, I apologize. Please, calm-"
Before he could finish, the girl lunged at him. In her hand was a poorly sharpened knife, its blade stained with brown rust.
Dohyun was completely caught off guard.
With both hands occupied and his attacker being nothing more than a young girl, he didn't know how to handle the situation. He had to protect the soup; he had to deliver it to the Princess. This was his only chance. He couldn't let go.
He let his instincts take control.
Dohyun slid to his right, moving carefully enough that not a single drop spilled from the tightly covered bowl, though the lid rattled slightly.
The commotion drew every gaze in the courtroom toward them.
What was happening?
Dohyun himself wished he knew.
"Little lady, please," he said urgently. "I'm not here to harm-"
"It was you!!" She roared, tears streaming down her soot-streaked face, "You took my mother!! Where is she?!"
???
Whispers erupted around them.
"What's going on? Did that young boy harass a little girl?"
"But men aren't allowed inside the Princess's palace."
"She's saying he took her mother away."
"He must have harassed her mother!!"
?????
No. No, no, no! This wasn't how it was supposed to go!
Dohyun was supposed to approach someone kind, hand over the tray of soup, and quietly leave. He was supposed to wait patiently for another opportunity, perhaps with Lady Chunhee's help, approach the Princess properly, prove his capabilities, earn an official position, and climb his way toward his goal.
Being accused of harassing someone's mother, someone he had never even met in his life, was never part of the plan.
"I believe you're mistaken," Dohyun said, trying to defend himself. "It wasn't me."
"I saw you!! With my own eyes!" she screamed and pointed the knife at him. "It was you! You dragged my mother by her hair and beat her. Then… then…"
Her swollen eyes filled with even more tears, "Then you took her somewhere. I heard her screaming…" Her voice broke, "What did you do with her?" She sniffled, cheeks flushed red, "She hasn't come back yet… w-wahhh…"
The girl collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. The rusted knife slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor as she desperately wiped at her tears.
Mournful wails echoed throughout the hall, drawing the attention of everyone present. Concerns gathered swiftly around Dohyun and the little girl at the center of the chaos.
Several elderly women rushed to console her, while elderly men, mostly in their fifties and sixties, crowded around Dohyun instead.
"You look like someone from a reputable family. What have you done with her mother? Are you trying to flaunt your nobility and power?!"
"Look at him, he's even wearing a palace uniform. I say he stole it! How else could he enter without a pass?"
"He dares intrude into the Princess's court! Beat him until he spills the truth!!"
And so, the old men began to strike him.
The soup spilled from the tray as several men shoved him roughly, the hot liquid splashing across his arm. Even through the layers of clothing, the heat burned his skin. His maroon robe quickly absorbed the scent of chicken soup.
They kicked him, slapped him, and punched him.
Yet Dohyun remained silent.
I must not hurt the elderly, he thought.
But what about himself? What if he was the one hurting?
Dohyun didn't linger on the thought. He never did. He was selfless like that.
He endured the searing pain and the sharp kicks to his gut. Even when the blows forced coughs from his chest, he made no sound. He curled onto the floor, raising his arms over his head as a shield.
At what cost?
They continued to strike even his burned arms.
"What a stubborn brat! He won't say a word about her mother."
"We should break his legs…"
The voices began to blur, growing distant, as if carried away by the air.
Suddenly, memories surfaced: times when he had been beaten exactly like this. Taking blows was nothing new. He had survived countless nights of hunger and cold. He had endured beatings since childhood.
This is nothing.
This is really nothing.
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