There is a common joke about weddings—that everyone enjoys them except the bride and groom.
Strictly speaking, it is not entirely wrong. The couple themselves are usually overwhelmed with nerves, and there are so many details to manage that it becomes difficult to enjoy the occasion properly.
However, this was a royal wedding.
Which meant that, despite appearances, there was very little I actually had to do myself.
From the moment I sat down in the carriage that had come to collect me for St. James's Palace, everything proceeded without any effort on my part.
"Her Majesty will arrive after passing through the crowds gathered in the park," one of the attendants explained. "Sir Gore only needs to arrive first and wait for Her Majesty."
"Did she seem well this morning?"
"Yes. Her Majesty slept soundly and had breakfast precisely at nine. Baroness Lehzen and the chief lady-in-waiting the Duchess of Inverness will accompany her."
So she had slept well.
Meanwhile I had been awake since dawn.
Perhaps Victoria truly was the braver one between us.
People often said that those with her temperament tended to become bolder in decisive moments. Judging by the situation, that seemed to be exactly the case.
I nodded along absently to the endless stream of advice—half advice, half teasing—coming from Charles as we entered the chapel where the ceremony would be held.
On the way toward Queen Anne's Chamber, a procession of familiar faces greeted me.
Senior politicians from both government and opposition.
Foreign ministers with whom I had only recently been discussing the bleak realities of international politics.
"Congratulations, Minister!"
"Well, today will be the last day we can call you that. Congratulations!"
"I envy you, Minister!"
Ironically, the members of the opposition were the ones smiling most broadly as they offered their congratulations.
Their thoughts were practically written on their faces.
At last that troublesome fellow is gone. Good riddance.
Especially Palmerston and Russell.
As for William Gladstone, he at least looked somewhat apologetic, as though he possessed a shred of conscience.
But I had suffered no real harm, so there was no need to reassure him.
Besides, if he carried even a small sense of debt toward me, that might prove useful later.
"Thank you all for your kind words," I replied cheerfully. "With your support, I intend to live a very happy life indeed."
After exchanging greetings, I took my place before the altar.
Nearby stood the members of the royal family.
At the front were my adoptive parents and the senior figures of the household—the Duke of Sussex and his wife, the Duchess of Inverness.
Beside them stood Victoria's mother the Duchess of Kent, the Duke of Cambridge, her aunt Princess Augusta, and the younger princesses—Mary, George, and Sophia Matilda—clustered together.
Prime Minister Wellesley remained at my side, making a point of supporting my position with unmistakable loyalty.
Then, at last—
Victoria entered the chapel.
In an instant, the previously restless atmosphere of the hall focused entirely upon her.
She wore a pure white gown.
On her head rested a wreath of orange blossoms, the traditional symbol of fertility.
The wedding heels I had given her carried her gracefully toward the altar.
Voices murmured around us.
The bishop spoke solemn words.
Yet strangely enough, not a single word truly registered in my ears.
When I came back to my senses, I was already placing a ring on her finger.
Moments later we were waving to cheering crowds as we left the chapel together.
Victoria glanced at me with a playful smile, clearly amused by my half-dazed state.
From morning until well into the afternoon we moved from place to place without rest.
Accepting congratulations.
Greeting dignitaries.
Waving to cheering citizens.
And astonishingly, even after hours of this, the day's schedule was not yet halfway finished.
We spoke with beloved members of the royal household.
Shared wine with the Prime Minister.
Played with the young princes and princesses.
Finally, in the evening, we departed for Windsor Castle for the grand banquet.
Even along the road the crowds continued endlessly, cheering and waving.
Victoria responded to them all with tireless smiles.
By then, however, my strength had already collapsed from sheer exhaustion.
Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but from that point onward my memory becomes hazy.
When I finally regained my senses, it was already past nine in the evening.
Only then did Victoria and I finally find ourselves alone together in our chamber.
Twelve hours of relentless ceremony.
Royal weddings were truly something extraordinary.
As I rested in what would become one of our bedrooms in Windsor Castle, Victoria approached me quietly.
She wore a silk robe filled with swan down and sat beside me.
"You looked half-conscious from the middle of the ceremony onward," she said with a teasing smile. "Are you all right?"
"…I'm fine."
"Why?"
"Because I'm fine."
She laughed softly.
"You're definitely not fine. But there are no more ceremonies now. Let's rest together."
She hesitated slightly before continuing.
"From now on… we'll always be able to fall asleep together here…"
Fall asleep together.
The moment she said it, something stirred inside me.
The drowsiness that had weighed on me all evening vanished instantly.
Until now, we had only spent nights exchanging kisses and holding one another.
Anyone who has experienced young love knows how cruel that restraint can be.
"I didn't quite realize it before," I said slowly. "But after the wedding… it finally feels real. That we're truly married."
"Of course," Victoria said softly. "You are now the official King Consort of the British Empire. My husband."
She pressed closer, calling my name more boldly than before.
There was no longer any need to hide or feel shy about her affection.
Her eyes shimmered.
Her lips trembled slightly.
And the woman yearning for love before me—
Was none other than the Queen of this nation.
If a man felt nothing in such a moment, something would surely be wrong with him.
And I, whatever else I might be, was still a man in his early twenties.
My reason snapped.
In a very different way from the wedding ceremony earlier that day.
I took Victoria's hand and pulled her gently onto the bed with me.
Her trembling body.
Her soft, breathless whispers.
The sweet voice murmuring love again and again.
Our first night together stretched on, filled with breathless laughter and warmth—
Until dawn approached.
The next day.
It was already well into the afternoon when Victoria finally opened her eyes.
She was not particularly surprised.
After all, neither of us had slept until dawn.
Naturally she would wake long after the sun had risen.
The servants, surely aware of this, had kept their distance from the chamber.
Looking down at herself in the thin robe draped loosely over her shoulders, Victoria felt her face warm as memories of the previous night returned.
She turned her head.
Beside her lay Killian, still asleep.
Her husband.
She gazed at him quietly.
The soft line of his neck above the collar of his shirt.
The peaceful rise and fall of his breathing.
Why did such an ordinary sight feel so precious?
Careful not to wake him, Victoria continued watching his sleeping face.
Gradually the memories of the night before returned more vividly, and a smile spread across her lips.
Truly.
She swore before God—
She had never experienced happiness like that before in her entire life.
Victoria was a diligent diarist.
Feeling that such emotions must be recorded before they faded, she carefully opened her journal.
My dearest Killian, whom I love more than anything in the world, lies asleep beside me now. The affection and love he gave me last night filled my heart with such happiness that I fear my writing cannot properly express it.
Even if I were to enter heaven itself, I doubt I could feel happier than I did yesterday.
Killian, who is always so gentle, held my arms tightly and refused to let go. He kissed me again and again, whispering words of love into my ear.
His beautiful face… his hands that were both strong and tender… The thought that this will now always be part of my life fills me with indescribable joy. If God has granted me such happiness, then I shall live the rest of my life in gratitude.
And as for how much strength he possesses…
Even she felt her cheeks grow warm as she wrote.
But what did it matter?
This was her private diary.
She merely wished to preserve the overflowing emotions of this moment.
After writing for quite some time, Victoria closed the journal and returned to the bed.
Despite her movements, Killian still slept soundly beside her.
Today no one would disturb them.
Perhaps when he woke, they could remain together like yesterday—holding one another again.
She was the happiest woman in the world.
With that warm thought, Victoria nestled into Killian's arms and closed her eyes once more.
Several months later.
Far away, in the palace of Joseon, a sudden commotion erupted.
The Bibyeonsa (Border Defense Council of Joseon), the kingdom's highest governing council, had been thrown into chaos by a single letter arriving from Shanghai.
"What? Killian Gore has married the Queen of Britain?"
"Wait—does that mean our royal family is now connected to theirs through the genealogical record?"
"Even if he is technically a royal relative, he holds no actual claim. It should not be a problem."
"Regardless, our royal lineage is now entangled with theirs—at least on paper!"
The council chamber erupted into heated argument.
No one had expected consequences like this.
But the shock had only just begun.
Because the letter from Shanghai contained far more than news of a wedding.