Chapter 43
The snake-eyed Jae-chun and his gang quickened their pace the moment they spotted the two women and the little dog.
Splash, splash, splash, splash, splash, splash.
Each heavy footstep of the six burly men sent rainwater flying in all directions.
At last, Jae-chun’s gang surrounded the front of the Seoul Herbal Market.
Miyu tightened her grip on the carrying stick in her hand. Staring coldly at Jae-chun, she asked,
“Why have you come back? Are you here for revenge?”
At that moment, Jae-chun and his five men suddenly dropped to their knees in the puddles.
“My lady, we have committed an unforgivable sin!”
“Please, forgive us just once! We’ll serve you as our benefactor for the rest of our lives!”
Bewildered, Miyu and Bok-sil exchanged glances.
Time passed, and it was now Soman — around May 21st.
The barley in the fields ripened, owls hooted in the mountains, and farmers worked in the paddies, dripping with sweat.
It was during this season that an incident shook the entire capital of Hanyang.
The body of Jeong Hyeon-ju, the Vice Minister of Justice, had been hung at the Sungnyemun Gate.
Sungnyemun — the southern gate of the capital, also called Namdaemun — was not only one of the eight gates of Hanyang Fortress, but also the main gate that greeted foreign envoys. It was, in essence, the very face of the nation.
No one could fathom how, under the watchful eyes of the gatekeepers and night guards, the official’s corpse could end up hanging from a rope atop the gate.
But more importantly, no one knew who had done it — and yet, whoever it was, this was clearly an act of defiance against royal authority, which was believed to be divinely ordained and inviolable.
Moreover, strange rumors had been spreading from the northernmost military outposts of the Four Garrisons and Six Forts all the way down to Jeju Island, and this new incident only fanned the flames.
People began linking the series of murders to slanderous leaflets aimed at the Crown Prince.
“They say Prince Geon-ho isn’t really the king’s son — looks like it might be true after all.”
“My thoughts exactly. Otherwise, why would such terrible things keep happening?”
“Hey, watch your tongue. If the guards hear you, you’ll be dragged away and tortured.”
“Three high-ranking men have been killed already this year. Something is definitely wrong.”
“Heavens, what will become of this country?”
“I have a niece serving as a court lady — she came home for the New Year and said the current Queen is vicious beyond measure. Wasn’t the late Queen Jeongmyeong a kind and benevolent woman, revered by all?”
“Indeed. Lady Jeongmyeong, mother of Prince Hye-an, even visited the relief office herself to tend to the sick.”
“Had Queen Jeongmyeong lived, surely her son, Prince Hye-an, would have become Crown Prince. Such injustice!”
“Yes, Prince Hye-an was upright from childhood, gentle, wise — the palace attendants couldn’t praise him enough.”
“Tsk, tsk. Human fate is truly a mystery.”
A crowd of scholars gathered in front of Sungnyemun, each voicing their opinion.
Yi-un stood nearby with Choi Gang-ja, watching them closely. His face was tight with anxiety, as if it might crack at any moment.
The repeated deaths of ministers were beginning to be blamed on the Crown Prince’s appointment.
Once suspicion takes root, everything becomes suspect — and rumors, once passed from mouth to mouth, only grow.
At this rate, people would soon claim that even the droughts, tiger attacks, or missing spoons in a household were all the Crown Prince’s fault.
Who on earth could be behind these killings of high officials? And more importantly, to what end?
“It takes a foolhardy man to hang the Vice Minister of Justice from Sungnyemun,” said Choi Gang-ja, spreading his legs wide and tensing his muscles.
“There’s more than one culprit,” Yi-un replied, furrowing his brow slightly. “And this is no mere murder case.”
“It isn’t revenge,” he continued. “There’s no commonality between the victims — not in family name, age, hometown, or office. Could it be factional strife?”
Choi Gang-ja blinked slowly.
“No. For centuries, the Dongin and Seoin, the Namin and Bukin, the Soron and Noron factions have fought their battles — but never with the sword instead of the brush. A man who resorts to murder is no longer a scholar.”
Yi-un’s expression grew heavier.
“Your Highness,” Choi urged after checking his portable angbu-ilgu (a sundial), “we must hurry.”
That day, Prince Hye-an was due to visit the Queen Dowager.
“If we’re late, she’ll scold you again and keep you there for hours.”
“That’s only because her love for me is as boundless as the sea,” Yi-un said dryly.
Choi laughed and followed behind him.
If word of the Sungnyemun incident has reached her, I’ll be getting another lecture today, Yi-un thought as he walked toward Changdeok Palace. The Queen Dowager always chided him for wandering outside the palace when “the world was so dangerous.”
Meanwhile, some among the commoners who gazed up at the spot where Jeong Hyeon-ju’s body had hung began murmuring in awe.
They recalled the prophecy spoken recently by the Heavenly Master, the so-called Child Warrior, during his gathering.
“A man bearing the surname Jeong, who dwells in a place of fruition, shall die at the next full moon.”
Last night was the full moon. The dead man — Jeong Hyeon-ju. The prophecy has come true.
He was Vice Minister of Justice — the Ministry called the ‘Autumn Bureau’ (Chujo), the office of fruition and harvest, written with the character 秋.
Exactly as the Heavenly Master foretold.
“Ahh! Heavenly Master!”
“Ahh! Blessed Child Warrior!”
Changdeok Palace — Gyeongchun Hall
Within Gyeongchun Hall, residence of the Queen Dowager, a tall, handsome young man dressed in formal robes knelt respectfully before her.
The Dowager’s face softened with warmth as she looked upon him.
“Has it been three months already? How swiftly time flies. Seeing you so healthy and well-mannered today gives this old woman renewed strength.”
“Your Majesty speaks too humbly. How could someone so vigorous call herself old?”
“Hahaha, I am old, and thus I say it. Come now, sit comfortably.”
At her invitation, the young man straightened his back and sat cross-legged.
The Dowager studied him once more.
Though born of the middle class and a mere mine operator, his manners and speech rivaled any noble scholar’s.
His face, handsome as a sculpture, must surely have broken many young hearts.
Though his lips smiled, his eyes remained sharp and cold — the kind that could make others feel bound — but in such perilous times, that too was a virtue.
“How goes your business?” she asked.
“Thanks to Your Majesty’s gracious support, the mining operations are steadily taking shape. I expect to begin extraction by year’s end.”
“Good, good. If ever you require further help, speak freely. I shall not hesitate to assist you.”
“You honor me, Your Majesty.”
The young man picked up a silk-wrapped box he had brought and offered it to her.
“I’ve prepared a small token of gratitude.”
The Dowager frowned slightly and gestured to the waiting eunuch by the door.
The eunuch stepped forward, placed the box on the low table before her, and unwrapped it.
Inside lay a bongjam — a phoenix-shaped hairpin — so exquisite it defied description.
Its body was pure gold, its eyes inlaid with large pearls, its tail adorned with jade, and its talons clutching beads of coral and jadeite.
Though her heart leapt, the Dowager kept her face composed.
“The grace Your Majesty has shown me,” the young man said, “is beyond measure. This is but a humble token in return.”
She examined the hairpin for a moment, then carefully closed the box and fixed her gaze on him with a neutral expression.
“I shall not forget your thoughtfulness.”
“You humble me, Your Majesty.”
“Tell me — what of your family?” she asked, though she already had a report on him. Something still felt uncertain.
“I was born an only son, without siblings,” he replied. “My parents passed away when I was young. I survived by working in the mines, and through fortune and diligence, I’ve come to where I am now.”
It matched the report exactly. His birth was low, but his talent was exceptional.
“Tsk, tsk. I had thought a man so handsome and poised must have grown up in comfort, yet you’ve known such sorrow. Have you no close companions with whom to share your heart?”
“I’ve been too busy earning a living, Your Majesty.”
“What say you, then — shall I introduce you to a good companion?”
He blinked in surprise. “A… companion, Your Majesty? Whom do you mean?”
“Someone younger than you, but of deep heart and understanding. A person who connects easily with others, regardless of rank.”
“If Your Majesty recommends them, I can hardly refuse. But for a man of my humble station to—”
He bowed deeply.
“In return, may I ask one thing of you?” the Dowager said.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Will you become that person’s strength — for life?”
Their eyes met, holding for a long moment.
“If it is Your Majesty’s command, I must obey,” he said slowly. “Yet as one who bears his own life, I must first hear who this person is before I can give my word.”
When he finished, he bowed low again.
His words bordered on insolence — a mere mine operator daring to question the Dowager’s will! Most would have simply agreed.
But she leaned back and exhaled softly, pleased.
He was not one to make empty promises for favor — and that pleased her greatly.
Just then, voices called from outside the chamber:
“Your Majesty, His Highness the Prince has arrived!”
The Dowager smiled brightly, looking down at the young man still kneeling before her.
“Ah, the very one I mentioned has come.”
At her words, the young man’s shoulders trembled. He straightened slightly, then bowed even lower.
“This humble servant, Choi Jae-seo, is deeply indebted to Your Majesty’s grace.”
Silently, he whispered to himself—
At last… the time has come.
