FYH Chapter 99

After the ladies-in-waiting and knights left the audience chamber, Lee-Jae’s gaze grew noticeably calmer.

She habitually studied the Duke’s face, falling into thought.

The Duke, who was likewise watching her, was the first to speak.

“Do you have something to say?”

He hadn’t requested a private audience, yet he seemed unbothered.

Perhaps he, too, had something he wanted to say away from prying eyes.

And the atmosphere between them had shifted—there was a different tension now.

They both sensed it: the other knew something.

That meant the conversation had to dig deeper.

And it was Lee-Jae who made the first move.

“Father. I have a question.”

“…”

“Why were you so determined to send my brother to the western border?”

“It was for the good of the family, of course. The Duncan name has been pushed away from the center of power these past few years. Your brother was demoted because he’s a Duncan.”

Is that really all it was?

Then why did your face—the lines of your fortune—look like someone hiding guilt?

Why did they keep shifting and clouding over?

Lee-Jae didn’t agree or deny. She simply stared at the Duke, as if trying to pierce through his mask.

“But Hailey. Our house now has something more important than that.”

His eyes were sharper than ever, and his voice echoed through the vast audience chamber.

“Whenever moments like these arose in history, the Duncans have always made the right choice.”

“…”

“Now it’s your turn—to make the right decision for this family.”

At that moment, a line from an old manuscript surfaced in Lee-Jae’s mind:

At the height of the Three-Year War, the first noble house to surrender to the Allied Forces was Duncan.

The Duncans never make the wrong choice.

Lee-Jae knew why that was true.

Because the Duncans had a seer among them.

They had foreseen the outcome of war before anyone else.

To get closer to the truth, she played one of her cards.

“Father… how did you know that now is such a moment?”

“…So it was you.”

A flicker of satisfaction appeared on the Duke’s face.

But Lee-Jae pressed him, avoiding the bait.

“How did you know now is that moment?”

An age of chaos. A time when all bloodline powers awaken.

What she wanted to know was how he could be sure that such a time had come.

“Someone came to the estate recently.”

“Who?”

But the Duke was not an easy man.

He smirked at her series of questions. The man who had long led the anti-monarchist faction had seen through her—

Seen that she, too, was now desperate to uncover something.

“Are you testing your father?”

“…”

“You’ve changed. Scheming against me now? Did His Majesty put you up to this?”

He was testing her in return. But Lee-Jae shook her head.

“No. His Majesty knows nothing of this.”

“Is that so?”

Whether he believed her or not was unclear.

But, like a seasoned politician, the Duke kept his cards close to the chest—even before the daughter he once used like a chess piece.

“But Hailey, this time… it’s your turn. If you want answers, you must prove our family’s gift first. Until you do, I won’t say another word.”

This was her chance—to draw closer to the truth.

But Lee-Jae, lips parting slightly, ultimately said nothing.

She couldn’t take the deal.

Not because she didn’t want to—but because she lacked the confidence to prove, or fake, anything.

Because Kang Lee-Jae was not truly Hailey Duncan.

And she couldn’t foresee a kingdom’s fate.

The reason Hailey’s memories from the past three years were fragmented—

was because foresight, like true sight, was not a gift of the body.

It was a gift of the soul.

And Lee-Jae had no memory of the visions Hailey once saw.

She simply stared at the Duke with a hardened expression for a while.

Later, as Lee-Jae sat at the dining table, lost in thought, the King asked,

“What did he say this time? Did he spout more nonsense? Talk down to you again?”

At that, Lee-Jae—who had been sulking—let out a small laugh.

Ever since Roderick found out she wasn’t truly a Duncan, his attitude when mentioning the Duke had become much more unfiltered.

And Lee-Jae realized it, belatedly:

So before, he’d been holding back.

It had been out of consideration—for her, as the Duke’s daughter.

The thought struck her as oddly funny, and she decided to tease him.

“Who? My father? I mean, is it really so strange for a father to speak a bit casually with his daughter?”

Roderick grimaced in distaste.

“Don’t joke like that. And don’t call him that either.”

“Why not?”

“Because it feels like all that effort I made was pointless. I really held back, trying to stay on his good side—for your sake.”

Lee-Jae burst into laughter.

You didn’t have to try that hard. I already liked you enough.

“Then why are you asking? Didn’t you check the audience report? Felt like there were people eavesdropping inside again today.”

“Why would I read that? I can just ask you directly. Or… is it a bother?”

“No. Nothing you do ever bothers me.”

She said it with a smile.

Even if it was a hassle, she couldn’t complain—not to the affectionate husband who read to her every night.

“Your Majesty.”

“Yeah. What?”

“The Duke really is like a viper. I don’t think I can ever win against a snake.”

Roderick laughed, his shoulders shaking.

But Lee-Jae had come back feeling a subtle sense of defeat.

“Some people… they say things you just can’t understand. Usually, it’s the ones hiding something.”

At that, his blue eyes stared at her.

A short, breathy laugh escaped him—part disbelief.

Because at that moment, his wife was speaking just as cryptically.

“I hate to say this, but… can I?”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

“You do that too. Sometimes.”

Lee-Jae laughed again.

Because she, too, had quietly come to accept that fact.

Speaking in riddles was practically an occupational hazard among shamans.

There was always a noble excuse—that revealing heaven’s secrets came at a steep price.

But more often than not, it was just a way to avoid responsibility.

With a soft smile, she said to the King,

“Your Majesty. I had a thought while talking to the Duke earlier.”

“Yeah?”

“You know that old warning—Don’t trust the Duncans.”

“Right. What about it?”

“What if it means something else entirely?”

Roderick nodded, encouraging her to go on.

“People who can see the future don’t always act for the greater good.

And I don’t think that makes them bad people. No one wants to walk a path they know is filled with thorns.”

Once, the Duke had asked her about the future of the Daemon Restoration movement.

It was the kind of question Lee-Jae was used to hearing—raised under the old mountain shaman, she had lived like that for most of her past lives.

Always relying on others’ guidance.

Avoiding the floods, dodging misfortune.

But somewhere along the way, Lee-Jae began to wonder—

Instead of asking who will win, shouldn’t he have asked whose side I wanted to stand on?

And the only person who could answer that kind of question—wasn’t a shaman or a seer.

It was herself.

The one truth she couldn’t deny: her own heart.

“So what I mean is… maybe that warning doesn’t mean the Duncans are untrustworthy. Maybe it means they won’t act out of loyalty or principle. …Which, I guess, comes back to the same thing, huh?”

She gave an awkward laugh as she looked at the King.

He, too, was staring at her in silence, then exhaled like someone snapping out of a daze.

“See? You talk just like he does. I’m sorry to compare you to the Duke, but honestly… you’re worse.”

“Must be in the bloodline.”

“Ugh. I told you not to make that joke.”

“Still, at least you always understand me.”

“That’s true.”

The two of them kept laughing together, sharing idle chatter and badmouthing the Duke.

They talked about what had happened in the audience chamber, and about events from the council hall. Both looked genuinely happy.

But the laughter died for one of them once the food started arriving, dish after dish.

Lee-Jae’s expression gradually soured, while Roderick simply kept snickering at her.

Noticing his smirk belatedly, she realized who the culprit was.

“Your Majesty, what is all this?”

“What do you mean, what is it? It’s food.”

“Please don’t mess around when it comes to food.”

As she began shooting him a glare, Roderick just shrugged nonchalantly and said,

“It’s all good for your health.”

“This is?”

Lee-Jae looked at the table with clear apprehension.

Every dish on it looked like something out of a horror novel—each one resembling a bizarre, alien lifeform.

Yet the parade of mysterious health foods continued without pause.

Roderick even handed her a fork himself.

“It’s all for your health. Eat it.”

“And why exactly must I eat this?”

“You keep overworking your body. The royal physician hasn’t helped, and… well, I wanted to do something. Isn’t that why you made a herbal tonic for me before?”

Put that way, she couldn’t exactly say no.

But even then, her hand refused to move.

I didn’t know Cayenne health food ingredients were this… large. And did they really have to leave everything so intact?

“Can I just brew myself some tonic instead?”

“Excellent question. I’ll have that brought out later, too.”

Having dug her own grave, Lee-Jae gave a moment of silent tribute before asking,

“Why are there so many kinds? I can’t eat this much.”

“I know. I’m not expecting you to. Just one bite of each.”

“For the record, some of these are rare enough you wouldn’t even see them at the Duke’s estate.”

Still, Lee-Jae remained frowning, her brows tightly knit.

Roderick bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to hold back a laugh.

She was clearly reluctant, more so than usual—and it amused him.

“Your Majesty… why is all of this only in front of me?”

“What would I do with this kind of stuff?”