Shadows of Childbirth
Late that night, Princess Gyeonghye received a Gatong from King Munjong. He had enjoyed a family dinner with his siblings and the young Crown Prince. He expressed his gratitude. But he noted that his second brother's countenance had been dark, as if the food had lost its flavor, and it weighed on his mind. 'Does Prince Suyang dislike steak? Or spinach?' I pondered why Suyang's expression had been so grim, but I couldn't figure it out.
The next day, a Gatong arrived while I was on duty. But I couldn't check it. It was the first night shift for the first-year residents. Today, this internal medicine ward took precedence over even Munjong. I never once sat down in the on-call room—not because I was busy, but because I was anxious. I watched the first-years rushing around, handing off charts. 'It's not even a situation that calls for running...'
I barely remembered my own first night shift. All I recalled was coming to my senses as dawn broke. At least up to now, that had been the most beautiful sunrise of my life. I hoped that for those standing duty with me now, tomorrow's sunrise would come just a little sooner.
Only after getting home at the end of my shift could I check the Gatong. His eldest daughter's delivery was drawing near. He kept thinking of Queen Hyeondeok's fate. It was clearly referring to Princess Gyeonghye.
Queen Hyeondeok (Kwon)—that is, Lady Kwon—had entered the palace as a consort to the Crown Prince and borne two children. The first died shortly after birth. In a society of high birthrates and high deathrates, amid Joseon's poor hygiene standards, it was just one case among many infant mortalities.
Born to Kwon Seung-hwi. The Ministry of Rites was ordered to handle the funeral rites.
The king asked Inspector An Sung-seon, "Shall we appoint a servant to guard the tomb after burial?" Sung-seon replied, "She did not even live to one year old—why guard the tomb perpetually? It is fitting to offer sacrifices only on the first and fifteenth of the month, and on folk holidays, for three years."
The king followed this advice.
Then Lady Kwon gave birth to Princess Gyeonghye. After Munjong's second Crown Princess Consort, Sukbin Bong, caused a lesbian scandal with a palace servant girl named So-sang and was expelled, Lady Kwon—a mere palace maid—was elevated to Crown Princess Consort. This was because King Sejong hoped that, having already borne a daughter, she was likely to produce a son. She did not disappoint, giving birth to Crown Prince Danjong, Yi Hong-wi. And she died the next day.
The Annals do not specify the cause, but it was undoubtedly postpartum complications.
How could the Crown Princess Consort imitate such vulgar customs and act so lasciviously? When summoned and questioned, she replied, "So-sang and I were always fond of each other—we slept together only at night, but even by day we embraced and sucked each other's tongues. That is what they did; I never shared a bed with her from the start."
Yet the evidence was overwhelming—how could she deny it to the end? [Omitted]
The Crown Prince seems inclined toward Lady Hong, but I deem Lady Kwon more suitable. As the ancients said, "If ages match, choose by virtue; if virtues match, by appearance." Their virtues and looks are equal, but Kwon is slightly older and of higher rank. Moreover, whether she will bear a son, or if so, whether he will be virtuous—we cannot know. Yet she has already borne a daughter, so by propriety, she ought to be made Crown Princess Consort. [Omitted]
In the end, this was Munjong's anxiety: the chance his daughter might die in childbirth like her mother, or that her child might die like Kwon's first infant. Maternal and infant mortality—both haunted him. Though he hadn't written it explicitly, he was imploring me to prevent them all.
I'll find a way.
It wasn't sincere—just a delaying tactic. I already knew the methods. Medical school knowledge and my internship in obstetrics-gynecology were more than enough.
In 2023, even in the modern world, 260,000 mothers and 3.53 million infants died. The World Health Organization's initiatives aim to reduce these by about two-thirds. They've established a global framework to prevent maternal and infant deaths.
Compared to today's poorest nations, Joseon's rates are about ten times higher, but the causes are the same. Even without my three years of residency experience, just sharing this framework would transform Joseon utterly.
That transformation was the problem. No one knew when Joseon might conquer smallpox. Finding cattle with cowpox would be rare. With reduced transmission and fatality from our interventions, it would fade gradually over years.
But slashing maternal and infant mortality? That would upend Joseon at breakneck speed. A mother who survives one birth might bear five more. Far more children born, far fewer dying young. Instead, they'd starve.
The price of this "good deed" would be steep. In the end, I couldn't decide.
Suyang had barely slept for two days straight. His brother's blood-red warning via Gatong. The invisible aide aiding his brother. Above all, his brother's improving health.
Suyang secretly summoned Kwon Ram.
"We need to watch the palace more closely."
Kwon Ram bowed silently.
"We're tracking Kim Jong-seo and Hwang Bo-in down to every step in every direction. We've eyes on most happenings in the Office of Royal Decrees and the State Council. But His Highness's recovery and the strange new foods on the royal table—those don't line up. There's an unseen someone."
Suyang paused, gathering his thoughts.
"Watch the Office of Royal Decrees even more tightly. Cast nets over the Royal Pharmacy and the Office of Communal Provisions too. Don't miss who comes and goes near His Highness."
Kwon Ram asked quietly, "How far to spread the net, and how tightly?"
Only then did Kwon Ram raise his head, only to lower it again at Suyang's chilling gaze.
"Make it so every big and small change in the palace is visible."
"Shall I summon that physiognomist you mentioned before?"
"Bring him. But if his mouth is loose, we'll cut out his tongue—or his head."
That night, Kwon Ram met the physiognomist in a dark alley near Seochon.
"The Grand Prince wishes to monitor palace movements closely."
The physiognomist replied, "What to watch?"
"Everyone entering or leaving Gyeongbokgung."
In the darkness, the physiognomist's eyes gleamed as he stared at Kwon Ram's face in the moonlight.
"Your face shows only waves defying the wind. When the wind blows strong, waves break. And the rider atop them..."
Kwon Ram glared. "That won't happen. Guard your tongue well."
Kwon Ram hurried toward Changdeokgung and met the eunuch Jeon Gyun in another dark alley.
"The Grand Prince seeks detailed intelligence on palace affairs."
Jeon Gyun narrowed his eyes. "How detailed?"
"Every change."
Jeon Gyun's eyes narrowed further. "A heavy task."
Kwon Ram murmured lowly, "If it weren't heavy, why seek you out? Don't miss who approaches the king. Remember, the Grand Prince values timely news above all."
His voice was dry. Only when Jeon Gyun had vanished completely into the night did a voice emerge.
"Keen-witted beyond others, sharp-eared, swift-footed. Swayed by money—reward with gold, and he'll scamper gladly."
Kim Nae-gyeong, the physiognomist who claimed to read a man's entire fate from his face alone, revealed himself.
The next day, Kim Nae-gyeong set up his physiognomy stall on Yukjo Street, in plain view of Gwanghwamun.
In his chambers, King Munjong had stared blankly at his mirror for two hours straight. He believed Do-yoon had a solution. He trusted Do-yoon. That's why he'd spoken of Princess Gyeonghye. Do-yoon had promised to find a way.
But that was it. That one phrase—"I'll find a way"—and for four days, the mirror reflected no Hangul script.
'I may have to bury my princess in my heart like Lady Kwon. Bury my grandchild like her first babe.'
A cough escaped Munjong's lips.
'I've improved lately...'
Whether from worry or the cough itself, he failed to notice Eunuch Jeon Gyun lurking in the shadows beyond the eaves.
'Sorrow brings back the cough.' Do-yoon's words upon sending off Lady Sukyong echoed in his mind.
Munjong rose and gazed toward Bukchon. It was where Princess Gyeonghye lived—a year after her wedding, delayed by King Sejong's three-year mourning, when she had finally left the palace for her own home.
Another cough leaked from Munjong's mouth. This one carried phlegm.
Soon, Princess Gyeonghye's due date would arrive. When the child was born—would it be joy or sorrow? Munjong could not know.