"Some destinies are inherited. Mine was taken, reforged, and worn like armor."- The Golden Crow Monarch Jumong
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The darkness didn't last forever. Unfortunately, neither did the silence.
"Prince! Prince Jumong! Please, wake up!"
The voice was high-pitched, panicked, and accompanied by a frantic shaking of my shoulders that threatened to dislodge my newly acquired brain from its skull.
I groaned, my eyelids feeling like they were weighted down by lead. Five more minutes, Mom. The shift was brutal…
Wait.
Shift? Survey. Vials. Migraine.
My eyes snapped open. Instead of the sterile white ceiling of the on-call room or my messy apartment, I was staring at wooden rafters intricately painted with red and green hues. The smell wasn't antiseptic; it was a mix of burning incense, pine wood, and... was that silk?
I bolted upright, startling the poor soul next to me.
"Your Highness! You're awake!"
I looked down. Kneeling beside my bed, which was basically a glorified, albeit very comfortable, mattress on the floor, was a man dressed in robes that looked like they came straight out of a history museum.
Wait, I know him.
The memories rushed in, slotting into place like a Tetris block clearing four lines at once.
Buyeo.King Geumwa.Lady Yoo.Prince Jumong.
"Holy shit," I whispered in English, clutching my head. "I'm Jumong."
"Your Highness?" the attendant asked, tilting his head. "Are you in pain? Should I call for the physician?"
I looked at the attendant. Musong. The memory supplied the name instantly. The martial arts instructor of the iron chamber, though right now, he looked more like a worried nanny.
I took a deep breath. Okay, Jasper. Calm down. You have the Essence of the King. Act like one. Or act like the prince, at least, let's not drag the name of reincarnators in the mud.
A strange sensation washed over me. It was like a cool stream of water running down my spine, forcibly settling my racing heart. My panic evaporated, replaced by a crystalline clarity. My posture naturally straightened.
So this is the Essence of the King? Handy.
"I am fine, Musong," I said. My voice came out different, younger, lighter, but the tone I used was authoritative. It felt foreign on my tongue, speaking this archaic dialect of Korean, yet perfectly natural. " merely... had a vivid dream."
Musong looked relieved but still nervous. "You have slept for two full days, Prince. Her Ladyship, Lady Yoo, has been beside herself with worry. And... Prince Daeso and Prince Youngpo..."
He trailed off, grimacing.
Ah, yes. The brothers. Or rather, the half-brothers who would very much like to see my head on a pike. In the original series, Jumong was a coward, a womanizer, and generally useless at this stage.
Well, I thought, flexing my hands and feeling the hum of the 'Essence of Blank' coursing through my veins promising limitless potential waiting to be tapped. That changes today.
"Help me up," I commanded.
Musong scrambled to assist me. As I stood, I caught a glimpse of myself in the bronze mirror I had noticed earlier. The face staring back was indeed handsome, a bit soft, lacking the rugged edge of a warrior, but the eyes... the eyes were sharp. They were my eyes now.
Suddenly, the doors to my quarters slid open with a violent clack.
A woman swept in. She was dressed in elegant, layered hanbok, her face beautiful but etched with a deep, sorrowful sternness.
Lady Yoo. My mother. Or, this body's mother.
A pang of genuine emotion hit my chest, a residual feeling from the original Jumong mixed with my own awe. This woman was a legend.
"Jumong," she breathed, her composure cracking for a split second before she steeled herself. She dismissed Musong with a wave of her hand.
Once we were alone, she approached me, her eyes scanning my face. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? To collapse in the middle of the palace... rumors are already spreading that you were drunk in the middle of the day again."
Drunk? Me? I mean, Jasper liked a beer, but I haven't had a drop in this world.
"Mother," I said, dropping to my knees and bowing my head. It felt like the right thing to do. "I apologize for causing you distress. I was not intoxicated. I was... struck by a sudden ailment, but it has passed."
She paused. In the memories I had inherited, Jumong would have made excuses, whined, or acted petulant.
"An ailment?" She reached out, placing a cool hand on my forehead. "You have no fever. Your complexion is... surprisingly vibrant."
She pulled back, studying me with a suspicious glint in her eyes. "Daeso and Youngpo have petitioned the King to take you on the trip to the Damul Mountain ritual. They claim it is to build brotherhood."
I nearly snorted. Brotherhood, my ass. They want to kill me in the woods where no one is looking. I remembered the plot. This was the catalyst. They would lure me into a swamp.
"I see," I said slowly, standing up. "And what did Father... what did His Majesty say?"
"He has agreed," Lady Yoo said, her voice trembling slightly. "Jumong, you must be careful. You know they do not hold you in high regard. If you cause trouble, or if you show weakness..."
"I won't," I cut her off gently.
She blinked, surprised by the firmness in my tone.
"I won't show weakness, Mother," I repeated, looking her dead in the eye. The Essence of the King flared slightly in my demeanor, giving my words a weight that filled the room. "I have woken up from more than just a sleep. I see things clearly now. I will handle Daeso and Youngpo."
Lady Yoo looked at me as if she were seeing a stranger. For a moment, hope warred with skepticism on her face. Finally, she sighed, smoothing my robes. "Just... survive, Jumong. That is all I ask."
"I intend to do more than survive," I thought. "I intend to rule."
An hour later, I was dressed in the princely silks that felt too loose and too stiff at the same time. I needed to modify these. Maybe use the Essence of the Crafter to design something that allowed for better movement without looking like peasant rags.
I stepped out into the courtyard. The air was crisp, unpolluted by smog. The palace of Buyeo, while it had nothing on the majesty of the 21st century, was impressive, even I had to admit. Wooden structures, stone paths, guards in lamellar armor patrolling.
"Well, look who finally decided to grace us with the living."
The voice was dripping with condensation. I turned to see two men approaching.
Leading them was Prince Daeso. Tall, imposing, with a face that screamed 'I am better than you and I know it.' Behind him was Youngpo, smirking like the bully's sidekick he was.
"Brother Daeso," I said, bowing slightly. Not too low. Just enough to satisfy protocol. "Brother Youngpo."
"We thought you had died from drinking too much rice wine," Youngpo snickered. "It would have been a pitiful end, even for you."
Daeso didn't laugh. He stared at me, his eyes narrowing. He was sharp. He noticed something was off.
"We leave for the Damul Mountain in the morning," Daeso said coldly. "Father wants us to pay respects to the ancestors. Do try not to slow us down, Jumong. If you fall behind, we will not wait."
In the show, Jumong begged not to go. He claimed he was sick. He tried to weasel out of it.
I smiled. It wasn't a nervous smile. It was the smile of a predator watching two rabbits discuss where to hop.
"I wouldn't dream of slowing you down, Brother," I said. "In fact, I look forward to the journey. I feel I have much to learn from you."
Daeso frowned. He expected fear. He got confidence. That threw him off his game huh? Nice.
"Is that so?" Daeso stepped closer, looming over me. "Don't think that just because Father favors your mother, you are untouchable. Out in the wilds, accidents happen."
"They do," I agreed pleasantly. "To anyone."
The silence that stretched between us was thick enough to cut with a knife.
"Let's go, Youngpo," Daeso finally said, whipping around. "He's likely still delirious from the fever."
As they walked away, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. My heart was beating steady, but the adrenaline was there.
Okay, I thought, looking at my hands. Step one: Survive the assassination attempt in the swamp. Step two: Find a martial arts master. Step three: Build an empire. Though, I feel like the universe will play a very bad joke on me soon. I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get there.
But first... I needed a weapon.
I turned toward the armory. The Essence of the Crafter was itching. If I was going into a death trap tomorrow, I wasn't going with a standard-issue dull sword. I was going to make sure whatever I carried was a masterpiece.
"Musong!" I called out.
The attendant popped his head out from a pillar. "Yes, Prince?"
"Take me to the Iron Chamber. And get me a hammer."
"A... hammer, Prince?"
"Yes. Daddy needs to do some work."
"...Daddy?"
WTF! Did a grown ass man just call me daddy? I'm not Diddy!
"Sighs…..Just move, Musong."