The room was held in a heavy, suffocating silence. The twins sat opposite the Inspector General on the woven mats, their postures stiff and regal, while the official remained doubled over in a deep, formal bow. His voice, usually sharp and commanding, was now thick with a surprising depth of emotion.
“I offer my deepest, most humble apologies for my conduct four days ago at the village on the outskirts, Your Highnesses!” he declared, his forehead nearly brushing the floor.
“I succumbed to the chaos of my emotions and neglected the sanctity of your royal dignity,” he continued, his voice firm and determined despite his submissive position. “The paralyzing fear for your safety overrode my awareness of your status. For this lapse in protocol, I offer my sincerest penance.”
He really is a rigid traditionalist, Mi-Reu thought, her eyes wide as she watched the man. He’s apologizing for something that wasn’t even on our minds, simply because he believes so fervently in the hierarchy. He thinks protecting us was a lapse in protocol because he was too blunt about it.
“Hmph,” Gi-Reu grunted, crossing his arms and pouting as if he had been harboring a deep, personal grudge for the last ninety-six hours.
Mi-Reu glanced at her brother in utter disbelief. I bet he doesn’t even fully grasp why the man is apologizing, yet he’s playing the offended royal perfectly.
“We find it difficult to believe you are being sincere, Inspector General,” Gi-Reu said, his voice dripping with artificial attitude. He leaned forward slightly, narrowing his eyes. “How can this apology be genuine when you have done nothing but oppose our every suggestion in the Royal Court previously? It seems to me that you simply lack the proper respect for the Royal Family. Isn't that the truth of it?”
Mi-Reu let out a soft, internal sigh, closing her eyes for a brief moment. He is absolutely enjoying this. He’s taking the man’s rigid sense of duty and using it to poke at him.
The Inspector General winced at Gi-Reu’s words, his shoulders tensing under his fine silk robes. “That was never my intention, Your Highness! My opposition in the court was merely out of concern for the stability of the-" He cut himself off, pausing to swallow hard as if choking back a bitter memory.
“I believe that only by sharing my internal thoughts can we have a genuine conversation, Your Highnesses,” he said, shifting his posture and adopting a sober, resonant tone. “I shall share my story, if you would be so kind as to lend me your ears.”
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“During my youth, when Haebang was in the midst of a brutal civil war, His Majesty Barua Jin-Ho, who was then only a Prince. Asked my father, Lord Han Eun-gyeol, to secretly escort those on his side as refugees to Joseon to protect them,” the Inspector General began.
“In our childish naivety, my siblings and I begged our father to take us to Joseon with him.” A profound, melancholic sadness pooled in his eyes. “We claimed we could be of help; we argued that taking children along would raise less suspicion from the other royal siblings who were watching our every move.”
He paused, his voice trailing off. Gi-Reu was momentarily at a loss for words, stunned by the fact that the Inspector General was being so vulnerable just to prove his sincerity. Mi-Reu, however, kept a brow raised, her mind racing. Why tell us this now?
“We were just eager to help,” he continued, looking at the two twins with a strange, piercing expression. Mi-Reu couldn't quite name it at first, but then it clicked. He sees himself and his siblings in us.
“A Red Death plague broke out across Joseon while the refugees were there without the knowledge of the Joseon officials,” he said, his face heavy with the ghost of old guilt. “Our Haebang people died day and night with no help arriving from either kingdom. It was unbearable to witness, both for my father and for us children.”
“Inspector General...” Gi-Reu murmured, his posture softening as he looked at the miserable man.
“I don’t know if it was sheer naivety or overconfidence, but my siblings and I decided to help them by tending to the ill.” He let out a heavy, ragged sigh. “You might guess what happened next. Neither my siblings nor my father survived that plague. As the sole survivor, I was expected to return to Haebang immediately, but... my conscience would not allow it. I stayed in the Scholars Academy in Joseon, studying day and night.”
“So that someday, Haebang as a whole wouldn't succumb to the same fate those refugees suffered?” Mi-Reu finished for him, her voice quiet.
The Inspector General nodded slowly. “I may have acted out of concern for your safety, but it was also due to my personal history with the Red Death and my own deep-seated fears.” He bowed again, lower this time. “It is unbecoming of an Inspector General to prioritize such frivolous personal feelings over the virtues and teachings of the sages. For that, I am truly sorry.”
“So, Your Highnesses,” he said, finally raising his head. His eyes were clear, but the warning in them was unmistakable. “You are but children. You do not have to involve yourselves with the burdens of the Royal Court just yet. Please, leave the plague to those of us who have already lost everything to it.”
Mi-Reu decided it was time to intervene before Gi-Reu pushed the old man to a state of permanent trauma any longer. She cleared her throat softly. “Inspector General, please, raise your head. While my brother is... expressive, we understand that your actions were born from a desire to keep the King’s children from the breath of the plague.”
The Inspector General slowly straightened his back, his face etched with a mix of relief and lingering shame. It was then that Mi-Reu noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the way his hands trembled slightly. He wasn't just here to apologize; he was an old man at his wits' end.
