"Damn it..."
Ryang strode angrily through the night. What possessed me to say such things to a woman destined to die sooner or later? Perhaps it would have been kinder to let her cling to the illusion of Hongyoo's love. But why should I care about her pain? He worried that the guards might have overheard their conversation.
She was only sixteen. A child, groomed from a tender age to trust implicitly. It was exactly what Sung had intended. How dare I lecture her about suspicion? The image of Hongyoo exploiting her innocence haunted him. But he had no right to condemn Hongyoo. The anger that consumed him now was a hypocrisy, just as Hongyoo had accused him that night he first scaled the walls of the rear garden.
Yeonyahng(戀陽). The name, so tender, belied the harsh realities within. Both Ryang and Seon were uncomfortable with the presence of underage courtesans. They had delegated their management to others, minimizing their direct involvement. Myeonghyeon Seung, now deceased, had shared their sentiment. But turning a blind eye didn't erase their existence, nor absolve them of their guilt. He had vowed to sever ties with Yeonyahng once they were back on their feet, but now, with their finances in shambles, that promise seemed distant. If I can't condemn Hongyoo, how can I condemn Kyeong'ui?
His hand slipped inside his collar, encountering a cold, hard object. He pulled out the ruby pendant, hidden deep within his coat. The ruby shimmered even in the darkness. I hadn't even moved on from Dara. What right do I have to judge Kyeong'ui? At least she had the resolve to kill Hongyoo and flee. Can I have done the same? If she hurled my own accusations back at me, I wouldn't have a defense. Ryang tucked the ruby back into his coat.
Instead of using the back entrance, Ryang strode through the main gate. The common room buzzed with drunken patrons and their companions. Passing through the tavern and the inn, he approached Ryucheon's chamber. The windows glowed with warm light, a lone silhouette cast against the paper screens. He wondered why Ryucheon was alone at this late hour, then was annoyed at his familiarity. Ryang announced his presence and entered.
Ryucheon reclined against the pillows, his attire loose and casual. He looked at Ryang with sleepy eyes.
"You said you were busy," he mentioned. "What brings you here at this late hour? People might misunderstand."
"I saw the light and thought I'd check in. I've finished my tasks today. If you're not too busy or tired, would you mind treating me?"
Ryucheon sat up, stretching languidly. "I'm a bit tired, but very well. Disrobe."
Ryang obediently removed his clothes and sat with his back to Ryucheon.
Suddenly, Ryucheon reached out and gently touched the ruby hanging around Ryang's neck. Ryang's heart skipped a beat. Ryucheon merely glanced at him, a curious glint in his eyes, but didn't ask any questions. He prepared for the treatment, heating the needles over the brazier, warming water, and drying the damp moxa. He muttered as he worked.
"The bruises on your body are understandable, considering your rigorous training. But what about your face? It looks like you've been in a fight recently. Did you get into a brawl in the streets?"
"It's none of your concern."
Ryucheon chuckled, then picked up the heated needles and began placing them on Ryang's shoulders and back, covered in bruises from Joon's wooden sword.
"Despite your modesty about the Myeonghyeon abilities," Ryucheon remarked, "it seems the Celestial Scions truly are different. The bruises from the other day have already faded... Fascinating."
Ryang remained silent, seemingly indifferent to Ryucheon's mutterings. He merely winced occasionally as the needles pierced his skin. Just as boredom began to creep in on Ryucheon, Ryang spoke.
"When will I recover?" he asked. "Will I ever?"
Ryucheon chuckled once. "So there's still something going on these days, huh?"
"I'm not like I used to be," Ryang confessed. "I don't feel like I'm recovering."
"The situation isn't like it used to be either." Ryucheon replied flatly. "I'm providing the best treatment I can. Whether your emotional outbursts are due to your lingering injuries is for you to discern. Confuse the two, and you'll lose your mind in an instant. Don't blame your injuries for your regrets."
I've already lost my mind. Ryucheon's words left him with only one conclusion. Will it be safer to simply surrender to this madness? Or is Ryucheon poisoning my mind, just as Hongyoo poisoned Kyeong'ui's? Protecting Seong, safeguarding his house, seemed an impossible task with his mind in turmoil.
The heated needles continued to pierce his skin.
──────────
Since the reclamation, Seong's days had begun with a simple meal at dawn, followed by a patrol around the city walls. He found joy in waking with the morning sun and immersing himself in the lives of the city's people. Within Nahmgyo's walls, he experienced a vibrancy that had been absent in the confines of Wicheong Palace. The bustling marketplace, with its lively bartering, and the glimpses of courtyards where people diligently prepared their meals, filled him with a sense of purpose.
That morning, he had visited the harbor to observe and encourage the soldiers who were familiarizing themselves with the newly repaired cannons and warships. With the foreign merchant vessels departed, the harbor was tranquil. Those who had braved the rough seas to reach Birahng were now preparing for the monsoon season, hauling their ships further inland. No enemy ships were in sight. Apart from a lone warship appearing off the coast the day after their arrival in Nahmgyo, Dahn had remained eerily quiet, despite the approaching monsoon clouds. Seong surmised that they were likely gathering information through other channels and preparing their response. The frontline, with the turbulent waters between them, was calm yet unsettling. The clear southern sky offered no sign of the rain clouds that would shield the Wian forces.
In the languid midday hours, after the noon meal, a soldier named Seomok sought an audience with Seong. Seomok had been trying to reach him since early morning, but it wasn't easy for a low-ranking soldier to gain access to Seong, not as it had been in Wicheong Palace. Finally standing before Seong, Seomok bowed deeply.
"Guardian," he began, "I have something to report."
"I'm listening," Seong replied.
"Last night, the High Councilor visited the cell where the Princess is held."
Sensing the gravity of the situation, Seong questioned, "The Princess is under the High Councilor's jurisdiction. Was there a problem?"
Seomok, despite having come of his own volition, seemed hesitant to speak. Under Seong's expectant gaze, he haltingly relayed his observations. Seong's face hardened as he listened to the account of Ryang's two visits to Kyeong'ui's cell. Seomok, though positioned too far to hear their conversation clearly, reported that Ryang had sounded as if he were reprimanding his younger sister. As Seomok wasn't the only guard on duty that night, rumors about Ryang and the Princess had begun to spread among the soldiers.
Seong didn't need to summon him; Ryang appeared on his own in the afternoon. As Ryang bowed deeply, then straightened, Seong noticed the dried blood caking his lips.
"What happened to your face?" Seong asked. "Were you in a fight?"
"I bumped into something," Ryang replied smoothly, concealing the events of the previous night.
Seong's gaze lingered on Ryang's face, his eyes sharp. Ryang avoided his scrutiny, his gaze lowered.
"What brings you here?" Seong asked.
Ryang took a breath before answering. "It's about Princess Kyeong'ui."
"Ah, that matter," Seong said.
"Now that the aftermath of the battle has been settled, we should move the Princess to more suitable chambers and provide her with proper care," Ryang explained. "I witnessed some drunken soldiers harassing her during the victory feast. If we leave her there, it's only a matter of time before something goes wrong."
Seong's face darkened, but he remained silent. Ryang pressed on.
"She may be our enemy, but she's a Princess. We cannot continue treating her this way. It's a matter of your reputation, Guardian."
"You're not wrong," Seong conceded, "but there are many eyes watching. There's already talk about your past interactions with the Princess, and then you cut off the Second Emissary's hand for merely touching her. People are suspicious."
Having already assured Kyeong'ui that she would be treated with respect, Ryang was determined to persuade Seong.
"It's not just about proper treatment," Ryang argued. "If we leave her there and she falls ill, or worse, dies, it will be a disaster. She's been starving herself this whole time. I had to threaten her to get her to eat yesterday. We need to move her to proper lodgings and have a physician examine her."
Seong reluctantly agreed. "Do as you see fit."
As Ryang bowed and turned to leave, Seong added, "Don't neglect your own treatment either."
Ryang looked at Seong. "Are you monitoring me?" he asked in disappointment.
"How can I not?" Seong retorted. "You severed the Second Emissary's hand in front of everyone, then walked into the Princess's cell and let her strike you. The guards reported everything. They said you came out of her cell with a bloodied face. Did you know they overheard you shouting? They said it wasn't the first time you dismissed them to speak with her alone. I gave you my full authority, but how can I trust you?"
"Guardian, that's…"
"Why are you so concerned about the Princess?" Seong pressed. "Are you feeling guilty about your past with her?"
Ryang was confronted with the same questions he had wrestled with the night before. He offered Seong the same answer he had given himself.
"I need to appease her to keep her alive," Ryang replied.
"She's our enemy. It's only natural for her to be hostile towards you. If she's determined to die, we'll just have to watch her more closely. Many soldiers remember you and Seon mingling with the Princess just a few days ago. Now, there are already rumors spreading."
"What rumors?" Ryang asked, his voice hardening.
Seong's accusing eyes already held the answer, but Ryang seemed determined to hear him confess. Seong finally spoke, his voice heavy.
"There's been a similar incident."
"Did you only hear rumors, or do you doubt me as well?" Ryang asked.
"I trust you," Seong insisted. "I understand you might feel sympathy for the Princess. But I can't control what the soldiers think. There's a limit to how much I can protect you. I'm telling you this for your own sake. I can't be the only one on your side."
"Your orders were to restrain the Princess by any means necessary before the attack," Ryang countered. "Do you think I enjoyed appeasing a Princess the same age as my sister?"
"Then I'm giving you new orders. Move the Princess to a better place, allow the physicians to treat her, but stay away from her. The silence from the Ministry is unsettling. Don't give them any more ammunition. Don't provoke them, no matter what they say."
Ryang's response was curt. "As you command."
Despite his words of obedience, his downcast eyes betrayed his resentment. Seong sighed and tried to soothe him.
"I wasn't monitoring you. I was worried because you've been acting strangely lately, so I asked Seon about it. I forced her to tell me, so don't blame her. She said she stopped you from killing the Second Emissary. She's worried about you."
Ryang ignored his attempt at reassurance and changed the subject. "Baek Ryucheon has sent a messenger to Dong'gyeong. He's been requesting an audience with you. It's time you met with him."
"Indeed," Seong agreed. "Bring him to me when you have time. We also need to start dividing the spoils among the lords. If we wait too long, they'll start making demands. We need to present them with a plan first."
"I'm working on it," Ryang assured him.
"You can go now. I'm sure you're busy."
Ryang rose, bowed respectfully, and departed. Seong, alone in his chambers, rubbed his tired eyes.
──────────
The air around the Nahmgyo guesthouse was thick with the scent of incense. Jin had temporarily allocated two rooms to the Ministry, who were currently scattered throughout the city, lodging in various houses as they awaited a permanent residence. Only Norahn, the High Emissary, enjoyed the comfort of the guesthouse. Seong and Ryang had offered the Ministry a more comfortable stay at the Myeonghyeon residence, but the elders had refused, insisting that the High Emissary, servant of the Sahngjon, could not reside in such a frivolous place. Ryang had placated them by explaining that even if they found a suitable site, construction couldn't begin until after the monsoon season.
Norahn occasionally ventured out to bless the gathered sick and offer prayers, but he spent most of his time in the makeshift shrine within the guesthouse. In truth, he was hiding, afraid to face the people. They expected his radiant eyes to reveal their future, to offer glimpses of tomorrow and the day after, but Norahn couldn't even see his own path forward.
As he sat alone in the shrine, the sound of the door sliding open broke the silence. It was Cheongro.
"I see you've recovered well enough to visit me," Norahn remarked.
Cheongro knelt respectfully behind Norahn, his bandaged right arm held close to his body.
"It's time you claim repayment for my hand," Cheongro continued.
"How can I possibly claim repayment for such a loss?" Norahn asked, turning to face him.
"The Ministry must get rearmed," Cheongro declared.