235.
Gichul's Last Night
When events no longer bent to his will,
Gichul—who had been sent to Dadu—came down to Liaoyang himself.
The sky over Liaodong was ashen.
The wind cut like ice, and the snow showed no sign of stopping.
Powdered snow rode the wind, slipped through the cracks of the doors, and brushed past the oil lamp.
The flame wavered dangerously, stretching his shadow long across the room.
Gichul sat alone.
Before him stood a single cup, gleaming faintly with gold—
a vessel once bestowed at a banquet of the Great Khan.
Now it held only a mouthful of cold liquor.
"Splendor and fortune…"
"So in the end, nothing more than a dream."
Outside the window, snow swirled.
The world lay submerged in white.
Within that stillness, the only sound was his own breathing.
He lifted the cup and drank slowly.
The bitterness lingered on his tongue.
"I enjoyed such luxury by virtue of my sister."
A faint smile brushed his lips,
but it did not last.
His gaze drifted back to the window.
The wind rattled the lattice, and the lamp flickered as if about to die.
"Is it the sin of betraying the realm…
or the sin of a realm that has abandoned me?"
He tried to laugh.
The laugh dissolved instead into a tremor.
"How empty it all is."
Gichul slowly looked around the room.
"These resplendent walls, these golden drapes,
hundreds of attendants and horsemen…"
He shook his head.
"I know it.
All of this will vanish, like snow melting away."
The cup slipped from his hand.
Liquor spilled across the table, spreading outward.
The lamplight shimmered on its surface,
like the last ember of a life.
Gichul raised his head.
"A human life is…"
"…pitiful, and pitiful still."
He wiped at his eyes.
Something warm clung to his fingertips—
tears, or wine, he could not tell.
"Please…"
He folded his hands quietly.
"May my sister's name alone endure.
May you remain the Empress of this empire,
covering all humiliation and blood."
At that moment, the wind struck the window as if to force it open.
The lamp wavered—
and went out.
The room fell instantly into darkness.
Gichul remained motionless in that darkness for a long while, eyes closed.
From far away came the cry of a northern beast.
When the sound faded, something within his chest quietly went out as well.
Outside, the snow continued to fall.
All the world's wealth and power were being buried beneath it.
Ipchun — The Moment When Heaven Stillness Falls
The sky on the eve of Ipchun was frozen.
The heavy snowfall had stopped, and even the wind that once scattered flakes now held its breath.
Between night and dawn—
the moment when the world briefly halts.
It was the gap Yi Jiseon had called
"the instant when heaven stands still."
Park Seongjin rode slowly.
The snowy plains of Liaodong glimmered faintly under moonlight.
There was no wind.
Only the steady sound of hooves pressing into snow—
thud, thud, thud—
like the heartbeat of heaven and earth.
In the distance, Gichul's estate lay sunk in darkness, massive as a fortress.
Not a single light burned.
The gatekeepers slept.
Perhaps because he already stood within a destiny that was dead.
Park Seongjin dismounted.
When the horse had caught its breath, he knelt upon the snow
and joined his hands toward the sky.
"Heaven—
take not my killing intent, but the grievance of this land."
He opened his eyes.
Moonlight settled upon the blade.
It was no longer steel, but frost.
Within that frost slept the will of heaven.
He walked.
He walked across the snow, yet left no footprints.
There was no wind, yet the snow parted before him.
The instant he crossed the estate's threshold,
the entire world fell into a soundless silence.
Gichul's house was quiet.
Pearl lamps hung from the pillars,
but their oil had long since burned away.
Inside, a single overturned lamp lay on the floor.
Park Seongjin stopped before a door.
From within came a low murmur.
"Splendor and fortune are but a dream… how empty."
Gichul's voice.
Before the words had fully ended,
a single current of wind passed.
The door opened without a sound.
Park Seongjin stepped inside.
Gichul turned.
His eyes widened in shock.
In that instant, the blade moved.
Not a blade, but wind.
There was no sound.
A lightning-swift arc cut through the air,
and the lamp's flame stretched and trembled once.
Gichul did not speak.
His eyes flickered, once—
and his head fell.
At that moment, heaven answered.
A single peal of thunder rolled from afar,
and the eastern sky grew faintly bright.
It was the dawn of Ipchun.
Just as Yi Jiseon had said—
the hour when the currents of heaven reverse.
Park Seongjin sheathed his sword.
He knelt upon the snow and once more joined his hands.
"The punishment for betraying the realm ends here.
May your sister's name, at least, endure for a long time."
Wind passed through the open door.
Snow swept in, covering the blood.
And the world grew still again.
In the distance, the sun rose.
A red glow stained the snow.
Park Seongjin watched it for a moment,
then turned away.
Where he had passed,
not a single footprint remained.