The Queen from the Video
Yu-ae Wanghu drank the hwaryeok-tang for the second day straight.
On the first night of the eighth month, a Gatong message arrived from Munjong. I had been studying for the specialist exam with the newly purchased 22nd edition of Harrison's Principles of Internal Medicine spread out before me. It was only then that I realized tomorrow was Munjong's wedding day.
Do-yun, I can feel the changes.
Men are the same in any era.
"Your Highness, isn't tomorrow the wedding? Congratulations."
It's thanks to you, Do-yun. Thank you.
I recalled the day last November when I first exchanged Gatong messages with Munjong.
"Every night, the fever rises. The coughing won't stop."
That was the first Gatong message Munjong—Lee Hyang—had sent me. The man who couldn't stop coughing, who spat blood in his phlegm, had survived and was remarrying. Danjong, who had lost his father at twelve and become king, would now welcome a new stepmother. Suyang Daegun, who had staged the Gyeyu Coup in the original history, was now laboring at the Iryeowon for Joseon's progress.
Lost in such thoughts about Munjong, I couldn't focus and closed Harrison's.
1452, August 2nd. Gyeongbok Palace.
Venus twinkled alongside the sun in the sky. Taebaek Juhyeon—the planet's daytime appearance—the Astronomical Bureau had called it an ill omen, but Munjong dismissed it. The wedding would proceed as planned.
The royal kin took their seats in the front courtyard of Geunjeongjeon, with the officials arrayed in ranks. Envoys from Shangshupo and Tsushima sat off to one side. Munjong sat enthroned in his membok regalia.
The anxieties that had haunted Gyeongbok Palace just months ago had all but vanished. Crown Prince Yi Hong-wi sat in the front row. The twelve-year-old boy's eyes brimmed with curiosity as he awaited his new mother, his hands clenched tightly on his lap.
Jeongui Gongju sat at the forefront of the royal kin. Known for her gentle disposition and refined grace, her face shone especially bright today. It contrasted sharply with the dark circles under Suyang Daegun's eyes beside her. Anpyeong Daegun sat with Suyang as well.
"Mianji works wonders. It'll be a huge help on this diplomatic mission."
"Sister, Joseon Jeongpum red ginseng is the real priority."
"Suyang, you don't understand women. Once the Ming concubines try this mianji, they'll champion Joseon themselves."
Suyang sighed and glanced toward where Paryeong Yoon-ssi sat among the royal ladies. Her seat should have been beside his by right. But he couldn't say a word to Jeongui about it.
Hyoryeong Daegun sat toward the back of the royal kin section. His white beard was neatly trimmed. Tears welled in the old prince's eyes. It was as if Sejong himself wept through Hyoryeong.
Yeonguijeong Hwang Bo-in, Jwauijeong Nam Ji, and Uijeong Kim Jong-seo wore expressions of deep emotion.
Suyang's wife, Paryeong Yoon-ssi from the Papyeong Yoon clan, sat among the royal ladies where his gaze had wandered. Unlike him, her face was remarkably clear and bright. Her eyes weren't on the royal kin; they fixed on the Inner Hospital.
Farthest from Geunjeongjeon sat the envoys from Shangshupo and Tsushima. Their eyes scanned every corner of the front courtyard, as if measuring the scale of Joseon itself. Interpreters watched the envoys quietly from behind.
Pyeongtaek Sa-ssi—Yu-ae Wanghu—emerged into the courtyard in her jeokui robes. Her legs trembled, slowing her steps. Just a month ago, she had been merely the daughter of Pyeongtaek County Magistrate Sa Ui-dam. No one in the palace could tell if her face glowed from mianji or paled from nerves.
Yet her soft eyes, full cheeks, and striking features were unmistakable to all.
Sa-ssi stood before Munjong. He rose. They faced each other. The officials held their breath.
Munjong bowed twice first, then Sa-ssi returned two bows. Munjong bowed once more, and Sa-ssi once more. Full prostration answered by full prostration. After twelve years, the king's throne had a queen beside it once more.
The ceremony ended, and the officials withdrew. Munjong headed to Gyotaeyeon with Sa-ssi. Gyeongbok Palace buzzed with excitement.
As Kim Nae-gyeong left Gyeongbok Palace beside Anpyeong, he turned back and muttered, "The one who captured a man's life has become queen."
Anpyeong turned. "What did you say?"
Kim Nae-gyeong replied, "I said it's a blessing for the nation."
Yoon-ssi exchanged greetings with the daegun's wives, then headed to the Inner Hospital. Jeon Sun-ui, sorting herbs after his return, started in surprise.
"What brings the daegunbuin here?"
"Jeon Sun-ui." Yoon-ssi's voice was low—not the tone he knew.
"I need some hwaryeok-tang."
Jeon Sun-ui's face hardened. The Inner Hospital served the king and royal family. Moreover, hwaryeok-tang was a prescription from the king himself—one that had never left his hands, let alone the hospital.
"Madam, hwaryeok-tang is His Highness's royal medicine. I cannot dispense it lightly."
"It's just a woman's request."
Yoon-ssi stepped closer. Jeon Sun-ui retreated half a pace.
"Jeon Sun-ui, Suyang Daegun is the superintendent of Iryeowon. He toils day and night to feed Joseon's people. And he's the king's brother. Isn't tending royal health the Inner Hospital's duty too?"
Jeon Sun-ui had no reply. Yoon-ssi's eyes narrowed.
"Jeon Sun-ui."
He had served in the palace for years, faced all manner of power. But this quiet intensity in Yoon-ssi's gaze—save for the two kings—was unprecedented. He knew silence could be the most terrifying.
"Just tell me the ingredients. I'll brew it myself."
After a moment's hesitation, Jeon Sun-ui said, "Madam, even if I gave the recipe, brewing it would be difficult. I'll report to His Highness."
It was his final defense. Yoon-ssi nodded with a smile.
"I'll wait."
She turned. In her sleeve, her hand slowly clenched.
The answer must come before I tire of waiting.
Yoon-ssi had arrived quietly; her departure was even quieter.
Today was Munjong's wedding day. I came to the weekend farm with Seo-yeon. The rice seedlings we'd transplanted were growing, ears beginning to form. The experience program office said this stage needed little care—the sun high in the sky did all the work.
Did Venus really appear alongside the sun in 1452?
Munjong's wedding was likely underway at Gyeongbok Palace right now. I kept refreshing, eager to see if the annals recorded it.
"Oppa, you're just staring at your phone."
"Ah, something came to mind."
Seo-yeon came out of the paddy and sat beside me on the ridge. The green waves rippled faintly in the breeze. I debated bringing up studying abroad.
Her expression shifted slightly.
"Yu-ae Wanghu's birthplace is around here."
"Yu-ae Wanghu?"
"Aren't you a history buff? Munjong's second queen, from the Pyeongtaek Sa clan."
My heart dropped. I'd just been refreshing the annals. In that brief moment, it felt like the butterfly effect had hit—the records now named a queen I hadn't known.
"Then let's go see."
It was about twenty minutes by car from the farm. Yu-ae Wanghu's birthplace had just a signboard and a small shrine-like memorial hall.
We stood before the sign.
Yu-ae Wanghu Sa-ssi
From Pyeongtaek. Father: Pyeongtaek Hyeon-gam Sa Ui-dam.
Enthroned as queen in the second year of Munjong (1452), second queen consort of Munjong.
Seo-yeon marveled. "Wow, she looks like a modern woman, not from Joseon. Total glamour idol vibe."
As we entered the memorial hall, she said. I froze before the portrait.
Yu-ae Wanghu's portrait was eerily like the woman on the Ferris wheel. No—identical. The one from the video I'd accidentally sent Munjong five months ago, the photo I'd sent at his request three months back.
Soft eyes, full cheeks, striking features. And... Munjong had selected the woman who resembled the figure from a video 574 years in his future.
That single video I'd sent had decided the queen.
"Oppa, what's wrong? Your face is weird."
"Nothing... just reminded me of someone who looks like the queen."
Seo-yeon tilted her head but didn't press. The last line of the plaque below caught my eye.
'Yu-ae Wanghu. "Yu" from "originate," "Ae" from "love." Said to be a posthumous title coined by Munjong himself during his lifetime.'
Because he loved her.
I could picture the scene Munjong recalled when bestowing the name.
By evening, we were home. I sent Munjong a Gatong.
No reply.
Still no reply. I waited until midnight for Munjong's Gatong, but none came.
Selected Queen Sa-ssi and performed the wedding rites.
Only the Annals of the Joseon Dynasty bore witness to the wedding 574 years ago.