Unknown
Dark rumors clung to the Crown Prince of the Un Kingdom.
They said he was a cursed monster, that anyone who drew near him would go mad or die.
Whether the rumors were true, or whether they were merely a pretext for something else entirely — a struggle over the throne, perhaps — no one knew the particulars. But whatever the case, the Un Kingdom wanted a justification to dispose of its heir apparent cleanly, without loose ends. And ideally, a justification grave enough to warrant a public execution.
In the Pyeong Empire, the Eleventh Princess, who carried the blood of the Seol tribe, had become a thorn in the court's side. The lowly bloodline of barbarians grated against the honor due a princess, yet to kill her outright felt distasteful — she was, after all, of the Emperor's own flesh. But to let her grow as she was posed problems of its own: what if, one day, she learned the truth of her clan's fate and nursed a grudge against them?
If Seruhwa is half Seol tribe, and one of those hereditary special abilities of theirs ever awakens, that would be a headache indeed.
Here, then, the interests of kingdom and empire aligned perfectly.
Marry the Crown Prince to the Princess. Then arrange for the Prince to kill her. And once the Prince stood condemned for the murder of the Empire's own princess, execute him for his crime.
That way, the Un Kingdom would gain its justification to kill the Crown Prince, and the Pyeong Empire would rid itself of its troublesome Eleventh Princess through another's hand.
This was the true reason why Seruhwa, the nine-year-old princess of Pyeong, had been sent off to be the Crown Princess of Un.
What an absolutely staggering fate. Truly.
Little Ruhwa hadn't known the details, but she had at least sensed that she would die on her wedding night.
The problem is that she was beaten to death before the ceremony could even take place.
Which meant there was yet another party behind the scenes, one who wanted her dead in a different way. How many of them were there, all circling the life of an innocent nine-year-old child?
First, I'll survive the wedding. Then I'll start digging for whoever's behind it.
Ironing out the twisted mess of Seruhwa's life would take a great deal of work.
There was, of course, the option of simply throwing it all away and running off to live in hiding — but that was the worst of all possible plans. Princess Cheonmyeong had a reputation to maintain, after all.
Whatever needs settling, I'll settle properly.
She would have her revenge on those who killed Ruhwa, and she would make Ruhwa's mother happy. Only then could Sohwa, who had become a celestial attendant, shake off her lingering attachment to this world — and only then could she herself enjoy her life as a human in peace.
Surviving the wedding comes first.
Still — married off at barely nine years old.
Her groom, the Crown Prince, was young as well, and it wasn't as though this would be a proper wedding ceremony in any case. Even so, the whole thing left her with a strange feeling.
Strange feelings would have been fine, but there were practical matters to consider too. If they shared the Haphwanju, the nuptial cup of wine, then whatever the circumstances, a bond of marriage would be tied between them.
That's the law laid down by Cheongsil and Hongsil, after all.
Cheongsil and Hongsil were the twin gods who sought out destined partners and wove the threads of union between men and women — the gods who presided over marriage itself.
If a bond between the Cheon-Hong pair and a great god like me gets tied, that little prince's fate will end up hopelessly tangled.
Her plan was to live as the Crown Princess of Un for a while, cleanly resolve every problem knotted into "Seruhwa's" life, and then — once her body had finished growing — throw off the title and wander the world freely.
But if she simply walked away after the ceremony, the prince left behind might spend his entire life as a widower who could never remarry, keeping faith with an empty room. Never mind remarriage — if he so much as held another person in his heart, he would suffer heavenly punishment or pile up karmic debt beyond imagining.
Whether he wanted it or not, whether they had truly been husband and wife or not, whether she gave him permission or not — it would happen regardless. For one reason and one reason only: he would be "the human who shared the Haphwanju with Princess Cheonmyeong."
The name Cheonmyeong carried a rather heavy weight to it, that was all.
That would be too cruel of me... so I'd better take precautions in advance.
While she was turning all this over in her mind, the flock of palace maids who had swept in had shoved her into a bath and were scrubbing her down.
"To think the noble Princess of Pyeong arrives without so much as a single maid to her name, never mind a dowry..."
"I'd heard she lived frugally even back home, but the rumors weren't exaggerating one bit."
"For the future Crown Princess of Un to be this frugal — what a blessing for the realm, truly."
"We even kept the wedding preparations modest, to suit the young madam."
The maids sneered with smiles plastered across their faces, and the hands that scrubbed her were rough and careless. It seemed they all knew perfectly well what sort of princess "Seruhwa" was, and why this wedding was being held at all.
Mockery instead of pity, in a moment that called for compassion — that, she supposed, was the nature of weak, foolish humans, desperate to distance themselves from misfortune by blaming the unfortunate for it.
How refreshing.
Both this side of humanity, and the insolence directed at her.
Her whole existence, she had been surrounded only by those who served her with utter devotion — most of whom couldn't even meet her eyes, and who, if their fingertips so much as brushed against her, would grovel to the floor begging forgiveness for their trespass. She had never once in her life been manhandled like a sack of laundry.
Had they been immortals, she would have punished them on the spot.
But they're frail humans. I'll let this much slide. Besides, even without me lifting a finger...
When she offered no reaction at all, the maids grew only bolder.
"The young madam is thin and small and rather plain to look at, but don't you worry. We'll do our very best to dress you up."
"There was no wedding gown fit for Her Ladyship, so we've brought the hwarot that Her Highness the Princess Dowager wore in her childhood."
"It's a bit old-fashioned and plain, but since Your Ladyship is so frugal, I'm sure it will suit you fine?"
"These flashy things wouldn't be to your taste anyway, would they? We'll just put them away."
One by one, the flower crown and ornaments and every other trinket vanished into the maids' sleeves, and she was left with nothing but a foul-smelling red gown dumped over her head. The hwarot hung off her like an empty sack, its hem pooling and sliding to the floor — until one maid suddenly cinched a cord tight around her chest.
"...!"
That hurts!
She could overlook the sneering and the insolence, but she had no intention of enduring pain on top of it.
Enough is enough.
She caught the maid's hand as it moved to tie the knot.
"Wh-what is it, my lady?"
"Let go. Step back."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said step back."
She pushed the hand away and added, "All of you, get out. I'll see to the wedding preparations myself."
At her words, the maid frowned as if the whole notion were absurd.
"The wedding is nearly upon us, my lady. We must hurry with the preparations."
"I don't need your help."
"Preparing for a wedding alone is beyond anyone, my lady. If we could only—"
When she fixed the maid with a steady stare, the woman swallowed her words mid-sentence and stumbled backward, step by step.
Another maid nearby asked, puzzled, "What's gotten into you?"
"Uh, I, um..."
The Heavenly Mandate Eye.
A power without precedent, hers alone, named for her title. No mere human could easily endure a gaze that even immortals feared.
Even in a mortal body, my eyes are what they've always been.
Sure enough, the maid's face began to drain of color.
"A-ah. Ah—"
The ashen maid crumpled where she stood, tears streaming down her face.
At that point, Cheonmyeong withdrew the Heavenly Mandate Eye. Any longer, and the woman was liable to wet herself on the spot.
"Go."
At her curt command, the maid who had collapsed began nodding her head frantically, weeping, all composure gone.
"Y-yes! I'm sorry! Thank you! Thank you!"
"What's wrong with you?"
"Jamyeong?"
The other maids grabbed at her in alarm, but the one called Jamyeong fled the room as though running for her life.
"Wh-what was that?"
"Why all of a sudden...?"
A faint dread settled over the maids who had witnessed the strange scene. Cheonmyeong turned to the ones still gaping at her in bewilderment and asked with a smile, "Aren't you all leaving?"
"..."
"Go. Now."
When she pointed at the door, the maids edged back one and then two at a time, and soon scurried out of the room in a clatter.
"What was that just now? What was it?"
"She may be a cursed wretch, but royal blood is royal blood, I suppose. There's something quietly intimidating about her..."
"Intimidating? She's a shriveled-up little child. You're imagining things."
"Still, she can't put on a hwarot by herself. Are we really supposed to just leave her like this?"
"Who knows. She told us to go, didn't she?"
"What's the point of fussing over a princess who'll be dead by tomorrow anyway?"
"Let's just come watch her make a fool of herself at the wedding later."
The sneers drifted back through the door — deliberately loud, as if meant to be overheard.
Humans really do tangle their own fates with their own hands, don't they.
Her pride wasn't so narrow that she'd fly into a rage over a few careless words from feeble mortals.
But her letting it slide was another matter entirely from them being safe.
She had inherited, whole and undiluted, the power of the Jade Emperor — the power to weigh merit and fault and mete out reward and punishment accordingly. And she had inherited so much of it that she couldn't fully control it herself.
Which meant that anyone who did wrong in front of her, or harbored ill intent toward her—
"AAAGH!"
"Hey, why did you just fall over flat ground?"
"Oh no, her tooth came out— hrrk—"
"What's wrong with you now? Stomachache?"
Even without her doing anything, heavenly punishment descended on them automatically, just like that.
"She's foaming at the mouth! Carry her, quickly!"
"The royal physician! Get her to the royal physician!"
Chaos had broken out.
Is it because they're humans with no power at all? The punishment lands on them instantly. For immortals and yokai, it takes ages.
Serves them right, what could she do? It wasn't as though any of them had committed a crime worthy of death, so they wouldn't actually die. Probably.
Ignoring the uproar outside, Cheonmyeong set about trying to loosen the cord that bound her chest so tightly.
Then she gave up almost immediately. She had never once put on clothes with her own two hands — how was she supposed to untie a knot like this?
After fumbling at it until the thing was only vaguely looser, she gathered up the trailing hem in her arms, dragged it along behind her, and made her way to the window.
Ansi should be arriving soon, so... hm?
Her steps felt so light, so springy, that on a whim she stopped where she stood and bounced up and down on her toes.
I'm not even dizzy, doing this?
Up in Heaven, even with painkillers, the slightest vigorous movement had brought on vertigo. If she jumped in place in her old body like this, she might actually throw up.
So in this body, it doesn't hurt at all.
She felt her cheeks flushing warm.
Unable to help herself, she kept bouncing — then, clutching the skirt of her gown in both arms, she tried running.
Wow.
She was running, and her chest didn't hurt!
"Woooow!"
The laughter burst out of her before she could stop it. She felt as though she could take flight at any moment.
She circled the room again and again. It was far smaller than her chamber in Sangra Palace, but her tiny frame made it more than big enough to run wild in.
My body is so light! It doesn't hurt one bit!
If just running around a room could feel this exhilarating, what would it be like to run outside, wind rushing past her face?
I've never once run properly in my whole life until now!
Lost in her giddiness, she kicked her legs about wildly, caught her trailing hem underfoot, and pitched forward.
"Kyaa!"
She rolled with a fair bit of commotion, but the voluminous skirt cushioned her like a pillow, and it hardly hurt at all.
Did I get a nosebleed?
She hurriedly touched her nose. Perfectly fine.
Her old body would have bled freely — from the nose, from the ears — from an impact like this and then some.
No blood! I'm not hurt! I'm really sturdy!
She wrapped the hem of her gown around herself and rolled across the floor.
No blood! Nothing's injured! I'm tough as anything!
Rolling forward, rolling sideways, catching her skirt and toppling over with a thump, rolling again.
No nausea either! I'm incredibly healthy!
In her original body, rolling about like this would have left her retching and sprawled out, ears ringing.
But in this body, nothing. Truly, absolutely nothing.
What do I do, I'm so happy!
A grin kept spreading across her face all on its own. Giddy, she flopped onto her stomach and kicked her skirt-shrouded feet in the air — and then a flustered voice drifted in from the window.
"M-Your Highness...?"
It was Ansi.
Cheonmyeong scrambled to her feet in an instant, smoothed her expression, and turned toward the window.