The Blood Phoenix Descends
The King, who had been standing on the altar of Jecheondo, seemed to come to his senses belatedly. He wiped his face dry and, with a look gone ice-cold, beckoned to his military officers.
"What are you all doing? Arrest Prince Waneon and the Left State Councilor this instant."
"...Your Majesty?"
"The dragon who descended in place of the Unryong at this festival declared them irreverent—these are the ones who fouled the offerings. If we are truly descendants of the Unryong, shouldn't we thoroughly uncover what crimes they have committed?"
"...!"
"Arrest them, now!"
At the King's forceful command, the officers who had been frozen in shock scrambled into motion. The unconscious Prince Waneon was trussed up in a crimson rope and carried away as he was, but the Left State Councilor did not submit quietly.
"What is the meaning of this! The truly irreverent ones are our mad Sovereign, and the unfilial, cursed Heukju Daegun who drove his own father to madness! Why should I, who sought to set this kingdom right—!"
It seemed he understood that being dragged off like this would be the end of him, and he screamed himself hoarse, the veins standing out on his neck.
But shouting while drenched in foul, black-flecked filthy water and reeking to high heaven, he only succeeded in looking like the madman himself.
The constables pinched their noses or scowled as they bound the Left State Councilor in the scarlet rope.
"Unhand me! The criminal here is not I—!"
Raging and thrashing, the Left State Councilor finally noticed—too late—the eyes of everyone around him, every single one pinched shut or averted, and his voice died in his throat.
Even the ministers of Prince Waneon's faction averted their gazes or turned their heads away.
They all knew this was staged—and when the dragon playing a part in that play bowed to the Crown Prince's side instead, flipping everything upside down, the shock must hit them all the harder.
As the Left State Councilor, rendered speechless, was hauled down from the foot of the Jecheondo altar, the crowd of gathered onlookers parted like water around a rock, scowling and covering their noses.
Bound in the scarlet rope, the Left State Councilor was dragged away through their midst—all the way past the outer red-gated barrier.
It's truly over this time.
It wasn't as though the evidence had ever been lacking, and with the mood turned so decisively against them, the Left State Councilor and Prince Waneon's faction were finished.
I stole a glance at the Chief State Councilor.
The dignified old man stroked his white beard like an immortal sage as he looked down upon the Left State Councilor.
I should start moving the Three-Hour Bug over to his side soon.
Once the Left State Councilor had vanished entirely from view, the King summoned the ritual officials.
"The Unryong Festival is not yet over. Proceed."
"Ah—yes, Your Majesty!"
The officials started violently and bowed repeatedly, then called out the next rite in a thunderous voice.
"The Dance of Heaven (Mucheon)!"
The memorial rite for the spirits, part of the offerings, had concluded with the iron statue as its final act, so the ceremony moved on to the remaining order of the festival: the Dance of Heaven.
This was the moment the Unryong Festival transformed into a true festival—dances and music offered up to the heavens.
The musicians reflexively lifted their instruments and began to play. The court dancers assigned to song and dance came pouring out and began to sway and whirl.
The King cried out over the music.
"Rejoice, everyone! The Unryong has answered our rite! Heaven is partaking of our offerings even now!"
"...!"
The chaotic atmosphere slowly righted itself at that declaration. In place of fear and confusion, joy and awe at having witnessed a dragon seized the reins.
"That's right—the Unryong came down to us!"
"Did they not say it was a dragon who descended in the Unryong's place?"
"An answer either way! Heaven has answered the Kingdom of Woon!"
"It's a blessing! A miracle!"
With the music, the mood began to heat up. People started to dance. The wine and food prepared by the royal house was lavishly spread among the crowd.
The solemn ritual had, at some point, become a feast.
Good. This much, we've wrapped up beautifully.
I watched the scene with quiet pride and smiled.
Sahae Gangcheol, son of the Dragon God—now known mostly as Gwangcheol-i the imugi—plunged into the forest on the nearest mountain the moment he left the Jecheondo behind.
The great dragon had wrapped himself in clouds and transformed: a boy with a mane-like shock of crimson hair, dusky skin, and golden eyes. He looked about seventeen or eighteen by mortal reckoning.
"Ugh, nearly scared the soul right out of me."
He patted his chest, glanced around warily, and then flopped down in the shade of a nearby tree.
"What is Princess Cheonmyeong doing THERE of all places! Someone who belongs in the ninefold palace! Why, of all things, WHY!"
Grumbling as though the world had wronged him, he fished this and that out from within his clothes and laid them out on the ground.
"Ugh, damn it. First things first—I need to cough up everything I swallowed before this bites me in the tail."
They were the offerings he had received from the shaman in payment for lending his divine strength. He arranged them in precisely the same layout as the ritual table he'd been served, then drew a barrier circle around the spot with tree branches.
At once, smoke rose briskly from within the circle. Gwangcheol-i waved his hand at the smoke to shoo it away.
"Hey, you shaman. Take this stuff back. Yeah, breaking a promise after eating your fill costs me rank, but eh, whatever—my rank's already at the bottom of a well. My apologies?"
He shrugged and added with an irritated click of his tongue.
"Honestly, I'm the one who got scammed here! Why on earth was she even there—"
"Seeing that filthy mouth of yours, I think I understand why Her Highness sent me after you."
A small muttering cut off his words mid-sentence.
"Huh?"
From the sky above, where Gwangcheol-i had looked up in alarm, a bird came swooping down. The small bird, its feathers a riot of color, landed on the ground—and transformed into a golden-haired girl, who stepped lightly and squarely on top of the barrier circle.
"Ack! What do you think you're doing!"
As the horrified Gwangcheol-i jabbed a finger at her, Ansi shot him a haughty look and then stomped down on the circle all the harder. The smoke, just beginning to rise from the erased barrier, sputtered out.
"Damn it! Now I can't even return it properly! What am I supposed to do about my karma!"
Regardless of how Gwangcheol-i flailed, Ansi only crossed her arms and lifted her chin once she had confirmed that the connection to the shaman was completely severed.
"Her Highness Princess Cheonmyeong told you not to reveal your identity! You dare let her words go in one ear and out the other? I ought to pluck out your scales one by one until you come to your senses?"
"What? You—"
Gwangcheol-i, scowling fiercely, trailed off as he belatedly recognized her.
The young phoenix who served as Princess Cheonmyeong's bodyguard, maid, and secretary all at once. A divine beast of such renown that there was no mistaking her.
"Oh, damn it all... You're the Blood Phoenix (Hyeolbong), aren't you."
At Gwangcheol-i's mutter, Ansi's eyes narrowed into axe blades.
"What was that?"
"N-nothing! I meant the Wise Phoenix (Hyeonbong)! You're the Wise Phoenix, I said!"
"Hmmmm."
The girl narrowed her golden eyes and looked him up and down. Gwangcheol-i felt cold sweat breaking out in a thin line down his back.
"Fine, I'll let it go. As long as Her Highness never hears that nickname, it's fine."
"..."
The boy let out a sigh of relief.
Unlike ordinary phoenixes, who shrank from taking life, that young phoenix had no qualms whatsoever about drawing blood—and her methods were cruel enough to earn her the name Blood Phoenix.
Before her own mistress, Princess Cheonmyeong, she played the ditzy, bright-eyed little maid; but out of her mistress's sight she was so merciless and savage that people half-suspected some monster's blood ran in her veins, and everyone tread carefully around her.
Weren't there rumors about which dragon it was that once gossiped Princess Cheonmyeong must be so sickly because she wasn't the Jade Emperor's true daughter... that got caught by the Blood Phoenix and had both its horns ripped out.
Without quite meaning to, Gwangcheol-i covered his head with both hands and shuddered.
Ansi looked up at the terrified boy with withering contempt.
"Her Highness said you were coming down to the mortal realm. She told you not to cause any more trouble and to go back quietly. So go back."
"Go back? Back where?"
"The well where you're being punished. Why ask what's obvious?"
Gwangcheol-i shook his head, the color draining from his face.
"I—I can't go back!"
"What? Stop throwing pointless tantrums and—"
"I'm not saying I won't go back, I'm saying I can't!"
At Gwangcheol-i's furious shout, tears welled up in his eyes.
"Getting out of Dragon Well is one thing, but getting in requires the Dragon God's permission...!"
"Then get permission."
"The Dragon God's permission? How exactly am I supposed to go to my father and ask for it? You're telling me to confess with my own mouth that I bolted from Dragon Well without leave! If I do that, he really will skin me alive—hide, scales, and all!"
In the end, it was the childish logic of a boy who couldn't go home for fear of his father, the Dragon God, discovering he'd left the well. Ansi's brows knitted as she scolded him.
"Isn't it only a matter of time before you're found out anyway? Going back on your own would earn you a lighter scolding, at least."
"He won't find out! Unless Father comes all the way to Dragon Well and looks inside, no one will ever know I'm gone! I just finished the grand cleaning a little while ago, so nobody's due to come for a long while yet!"
"So you're saying you simply won't return to the heavens at all?"
"Who said I won't return? I said I can't right now!"
Gwangcheol-i squawked, his face crumpling into a look of utter misery, and then added:
"Dragon Well gets its water changed every twelve years, see? In the Year of the Dragon, the well-bucket descends on its own and draws up the waters of the mortal realm. So if I ride the bucket back up then, I can get home without anyone knowing a thing!"
"A Year of the Dragon? This year is the Gyesa year, so isn't that eleven years from now?"
"Exactly! So I'll just lie low here in the mortal realm for eleven years, then go back up!"
Ansi knew the full story of how Sahae Gangcheol, son of the Dragon God, had become the imugi Gwangcheol-i and been thrown into a well in the first place.
The golden-haired phoenix looked him over, head to toe, with unmistakable doubt.
"...You. The one who messed things up down here so badly you got demoted to imugi status. And you expect me to believe you can lie low in the mortal realm for eleven whole years?"