At the memory, Sinyeong’s eyes gleamed.
He felt a tiny, almost negligible sense of gratitude for the drawing album she had lent him, but beyond that, there was plenty to settle with her—climbing over the concubine’s wall, wandering around at dawn with her hair loose like a ghost, and even throwing her shoe at the crown prince.
The list went on and on.
He hadn’t planned on this, but the idea of finally putting that impudent and brazen cat in her place filled him with sudden enthusiasm.
‘Let’s see how you handle this,’ he thought with a smirk, then turned to the empress and asked,
“When should I attend?”
* * *
“Miss, you’re scheduled for the twelfth slot this afternoon.”
The door burst open as Sohwa delivered the news.
Hwayeong, who had been lying exhausted on her bedding after a creative streak, replied absently, her eyes still glued to the book.
“Is that so?”
“It’s time to get ready.”
“I’m fine. I can go as I am.”
