The Memorial Rite
‘After Chamsin comes the next rite: the offering. The moment when tributes prepared by everyone from the royal house down to the common folk are presented.’
And as part of that offering, the Crown Prince was scheduled to perform the memorial rite for the dead. The memorial rite itself would become a tribute offered at the Unryong Festival.
‘Once the Crown Prince ascends the altar of heaven and begins reading the eulogy according to the rite’s procedure — that’s when the fake Black Jade appears.’
Had they failed to prepare for it, it would have been a scheme quite difficult to contain.
What Prince Waneon’s faction had prepared to imitate the Black Jade was a yokai known as the Geuseundae.
The Geuseundae, like the Eodukseoni, was a being born of darkness. But while the Eodukseoni was so amorphous that calling it a yokai — or even a living creature — was itself a stretch, the Geuseundae had a definite form: a true monster that hid in shadows and devoured human beings.
‘The Eodukseoni fell from the darkness of the heavens, whereas the Geuseundae was born from the darkness of the earth — so at their root, they’re entirely different things.’
A powerful Geuseundae, they said, could spread its shadow even in broad daylight, blanketing its surroundings and lurking within to ambush the people caught inside.
Because the Geuseundae’s shadow was a trap laid for the hunt, it was clearly different from the maddening darkness of the Eodukseoni — but to humans paralyzed with terror, one was as good as the other.
‘A rare yokai, not easy to come by… The Chief State Councilor must have quietly helped them.’
As with the attempt on Seruhwa’s life and the ghost fire in the Crown Prince’s palace, it seemed certain that the Chief State Councilor kept quite formidable gwoeryeoknansin in his service.
‘But whether he did or not, a thing like a Geuseundae is no real problem for Ansi — the one who beats down Maegu. Counter-jutsu work is a Maegu’s specialty, after all.’
Shamans — those corresponding to the nan (亂), "tumult," in gwoeryeoknansin — were practitioners of jutsu, arts that mimicked yokai techniques using power absorbed from yokai themselves.
Naturally, shamans were the most familiar with yokai of all the gwoeryeoknansin. They were always out hunting them, and at times they would subdue a yokai or tame it outright, putting it to work like livestock.
To a yokai who had lived a full thousand years, they were a presence she had run into so often it made her sick of the sight of them.
‘They come at her trying to slay her, come at her trying to absorb her fox-power, come at her trying to tame her — thanks to which, she says she’s become a true master at handling shamans, and she asked me to leave it to her.’
And so it was decided: Ansi would be sent to where the Geuseundae was hidden, and Seok-ran to the shamans preparing to release it.
‘Having watched every council meeting through the Left State Councilor, I already know all their locations. This way, we can stop everything cleanly before it even begins.’
Doom-doom-doom-doom — the drums thundered, and the voice of the officiant rang out.
"The Offering—!"
P Palace attendants climbed the stairs in a line, bearing the royal tributes prepared in advance. Behind them, sons of noble houses began to pile their gifts at the foot of the altar of heaven.
Down in the clearing below the hill, the common folk came forward one by one, laying their own tributes on the mats the officiants guarded, and bowing.
Tributes carrying prayers offered up to the gods of heaven and earth.
I could feel the devotion and yearning invested in those objects rising toward the sky like incense smoke from the censer.
‘The Heumhyanggwan will be busy today.’
In heaven there existed immortals called the Heumhyanggwan, whose office was to receive and collect the sacrificial offerings made to the gods.
The gods were far too busy to accept each offering personally, and so they kept officials dedicated to the task.
A half-made god like me — holding no particular office, serving no temple in the lower world — had no Heumhyanggwan of my own, but famous deities who received countless offerings from the mortal realm sometimes kept several dedicated attendants apiece.
As the tributes piled higher, I felt the hand of the Crown Prince, clasped in mine, begin to tremble.
It seemed he was nervous, with the memorial rite about to begin. I simply held his hand tightly and said nothing. The Crown Prince glanced back at me for a moment and gave a faint smile.
The drumbeats died away. A gong sounded once, deep and resonant, and the King spoke.
"…And today, we shall offer a special tribute and honor the souls of the innocent. Let the presiding offerer come forward."
The officiant shouted at the top of his lungs.
"The Memorial Rite—!"
All at once, the gaze of the assembled crowd — still bustling with the presentation of tributes — converged on one point. The Crown Prince, as presiding offerer, released my hand and rose from his seat.
Today, the Crown Prince did not wear the navy gonryongpo that was a prince’s proper dress.
A snow-white dragon robe, and a snow-white ikseongwan cap.
It was the highest order of mourning dress in the Kingdom of Un, worn only at a state funeral — or so I’d been told. The Crown Prince, and the royal house itself, had dressed this way to show how deep a meaning and how much devotion they poured into this memorial rite.
‘That’s why I’m wearing white ceremonial robes as well.’
In an instant, the crowd fell silent as the young Crown Prince, robed in mourning white, climbed the altar of heaven.
‘…A strange sight to behold.’
There was something peculiarly bitter, and peculiarly powerful, about the spectacle of an unspoiled eleven-year-old boy — baby fat still clinging to his cheeks — dressed in mourning robes and walking toward the altar as the presiding offerer.
Terrible and horrifying as the Black Jade had been, it had happened inside the palace — at the Queen Dowager’s birthday banquet, where no ordinary subject had been present.
Where the people had known the Black Jade only as rumor, the Crown Prince’s memorial rite for its victims was being performed at this very moment, right before their eyes.
‘For the common folk, this is bound to leave the far stronger impression.’
Just below the highest tier of the Unryong Festival altar, a woolen carpet had been laid, and upon it the memorial table was set. The officiant raised aloft a white banner embroidered with the words "Memorial Rite."
"The Incense Offering—!"
At the officiant’s cry, the Crown Prince lit the incense and bowed. When the boy rose, the officiant called the next step.
"The Eulogy—!"
My turn.
I received from the officiant the tray prepared in advance, bearing the eulogy and the ritual wine.
‘Heavy!’
Thank goodness I’d practiced with something similar beforehand. If I hadn’t, I might have panicked and dropped the whole thing…
My arms were trembling from the weight of the wine bottle, but I trusted my voluminous sleeves would hide it well enough, and I moved forward step by careful step until I stood beside the Crown Prince.
He acknowledged me with a look and lifted the eulogy from the tray.
"On the fifteenth day of the twelfth month, in the thirteenth year of Seogwang — I, Cheon Gyeol-woo, Grand Prince Hyoeon, Crown Prince of Un, speak before Heaven and before the innocent souls departed…"
The Crown Prince’s title, which had been changed to Black Jade Prince, had been restored to Grand Prince Hyoeon the very moment the King recovered his senses.
Now, at an official occasion, the restored title of the Crown Prince was being proclaimed to all.
The first step in raising what had been cast down.
The Crown Prince lowered his eyes and read the eulogy in a steady, even voice.
That eulogy had been written by the little one himself, then reviewed and approved by the King and the Lord Secretary.
Clever as he was, it was still the writing of a child, and so the Crown Prince’s language was simpler than the ritual text the King himself had once read aloud.
And precisely because of that, it reached the people more closely, more intimately.
Moreover, that eulogy contained a record and explanation of the "Black Jade" — an event about which only speculation had swirled, with no official announcement ever made.
"…The darkness that dwelt in me harmed people so. It was a kind of divine affliction…"
The whole truth of the incident, learned for the first time now. The true nature of what they had called a curse.
Young cheeks turned red by the cold winter wind. The mourning robes of the "Crown Prince," embroidered with dragons.
A composure that did not belong to a child — and yet a small frame that was unmistakably, undeniably still a child.
A voice trembling faintly with some feeling — grief, or fear, or something beyond naming — and yet a straight, unyielding posture that bore it calmly.
It was a scene impossibly far removed from the sinister rumor of a cursed prince who would kill everyone around him.
I could feel the onlookers holding their breath.
"…It was not something I willed into being. Yet it is true that that atrocity came about through me. I will not forget that day. I will honor the spirits of all who departed, and ask their forgiveness…"
Shoulders far too small to bear the weight of human deaths. And yet a small back held erect, determined to carry that weight somehow, without wavering.
A eulogy filled with genuine sincerity.
I could feel the hearts of the people stirring, little by little.
‘You’re doing wonderfully, little one.’
Watching the gazes drawn toward the Crown Prince and the shifting mood of the crowd, I knew in my bones that this memorial rite was proceeding to triumph.
‘If it only ends as safely as it has begun, public feeling toward the Crown Prince will change considerably.’
The Left State Councilor’s faction must have known that too — surely that was why they had schemed.
Still holding the tray, I stole a careful glance around.
‘By now, the Geuseundae should have burst out…’
All around was peace and stillness. The sky was blue, and apart from the Crown Prince’s ringing young voice and the sound of the wind, nothing could be heard at all.
‘Seems Ansi and Seok-ran took care of it nicely.’
The only thing not at peace was the Left State Councilor’s eyebrows.
‘Look at them, twitching and writhing in absolute chaos. I suppose he’s wondering why nothing is happening?’
An inappropriate laugh threatened to escape me, and I held it down with effort.
Holding it in wasn’t actually that hard. The moment I saw the face of the Right State Councilor standing beside the Left State Councilor, the laughter drained clean out of me.
The Crown Prince, having finished the eulogy, was now reciting the names written upon each of the memorial tablets, one by one.
The name of Lady Sim, Posthumous Honor Consort of Justice, passed by.
The Right State Councilor’s shoulders flinched. His face wore an expression that could not be put into words.
Grief? Rage? Injustice? Longing? …Or something very small — consolation?
‘I can’t even fathom what he must be feeling.’
A bitter taste rose in my mouth.
"The Wine Offering—!"
The next step. The Crown Prince raised the cup in both hands. As I poured the wine into it, he set the cup before the memorial tablets and bowed.
He offered a cup before each tablet in turn. And each time I filled the cup, I offered a silent prayer for the repose of the dead.
‘In the name of Princess Cheonmyeong.’
By this, lightening the karma that had piled upon the Crown Prince.
The gift I had once promised to give him had, unknown to the little one himself, been delivered safely.
In the middle of it all, Ansi’s planted voice reached my mind.