The Taste of Being Alive
Unknown
"Your Highness, you struggle because you cannot control that darkness on your own, don't you? You said that even without wanting to, you end up harming others."
"...Yes, that is so."
"But just now, you controlled it. The darkness vanished, and every lamp in this room came back on."
"That was..."
"So if you practice, you'll be able to keep controlling it from now on, too."
The Crown Prince's eyes went wide.
"Practice... you say?"
"Yes!"
I nodded eagerly and took hold of his hand.
"I'll be fine even inside your darkness, so practice with me."
"...!"
"I'll help you—until the day you're no longer afraid of your own darkness!"
The hands clasped in mine trembled faintly.
Looking up at the Crown Prince's night-black eyes as they quivered, I thought to myself:
You can do this.
Left alone, without anyone slaying it, an Eodukseoni would eventually destroy itself of its own accord.
Because the being that feared the Eodukseoni's darkness most of all was the Eodukseoni itself.
Watching the living things around it die or go mad, an Eodukseoni naturally comes to fear its own abnormal darkness—and that very fear makes it grow into an ever larger one.
And the larger it becomes, the stronger the terror its darkness inspires, and the greater its own fear grows in turn.
Then, at some point, the moment comes when the Eodukseoni's fear grows larger than the Eodukseoni itself.
That's when it gets devoured by its own darkness.
It was just like me.
The vicious cycle: the power crushed my body and made me weak, and because I was weak, I could endure the power less and less.
So in the Eodukseoni's language, what I'd endured would translate to much the same thing.
But you can break out of that cycle.
He had already succeeded once in shaking off his fear, hadn't he?
I'd heard that lesser Eodukseoni, being mere beasts, were incapable of overcoming their own terror, and so every one of them ended up swallowed by its darkness.
But this child was no beast. He was human, capable of governing his own emotions with reason and will.
Besides, someone as great a god as I—the Princess Cheonmyeong—will be helping you. You can absolutely do this.
Helping him not to be afraid, or drilling him in how to control his power—those things I could manage without the slightest difficulty.
I broke into a wide smile at the Crown Prince.
"Your Highness, you will overcome this. I know you will!"
"...!"
The Crown Prince gazed down at me as though bewitched. The boy's delicate lowered lashes trembled.
And in that very moment, a great and disgraceful growl rang out.
From my stomach.
"..."
"..."
"...My lady, are you hungry?"
"...I haven't managed a single meal today, you see..."
Come to think of it, it was all a bit tragic.
I'd risen to help prepare the wedding ceremony, performed the ceremony itself straightaway, and the moment it ended, I'd been bundled off into the bridal chamber.
In other words, I'd been starving all day.
I know I never cared much for eating, but this is going too far, even for me!
This body wasn't like my old one, where I'd been forced to fast every time my condition worsened.
You're supposed to eat plenty, grow big and strong, and get healthy soon!
The moment I realized it, the hunger came crashing in. The Crown Prince asked, flustered.
"Surely a table was set in the bridal chamber. Did you eat nothing at all while you waited?"
What? Where? I never saw anything of the sort?
At my expression, the Crown Prince sprang up from his seat.
"It must have... ah, here it is."
He looked this way and that around the bridal chamber, then dragged out a table hidden behind the folding screen.
It was an evening meal, carefully covered with an embroidered cloth.
Seriously, why on earth was it hidden away like that?
"I was told a separate table is set in the bridal chamber so the bride may dine comfortably on her own. Did no maidservant tell you of it?"
"...No. They didn't."
Every last one of them had vanished, struck down by divine punishment. Not a single maid remained.
So that's why they never brought me a single meal... and here I was thinking they just didn't bother feeding a girl about to die.
"You must be hungry. Please, eat."
The Crown Prince quickly set the table before me and removed the cloth with his own hands.
White glutinous rice, pearly beef broth, kimchi, grilled beef (neobiani), pressed meat, braised fish, savory pancakes, seasoned vegetables, fresh greens, pickled dishes, seasoned raw beef, fermented seafood.
How modest... no wait, by human standards, is this actually a well-laid table?
My meals were normally served in one hundred twenty courses, but I'd heard that even a king's royal table in the mortal realm ran twelve. So a nine-course meal was probably perfectly respectable, right?
Given the circumstances, I honestly can't be sure.
As I tilted my head in doubt, a delicious aroma bloomed up into my face—so fragrant that my mouth watered before I knew it.
It was the first time in my existence that the smell of food had ever felt this good.
The old me had hated mealtimes themselves.
Is it because I've fasted all day?
Or was this, too, one of the differences between a healthy body and a sick one?
Everything smells wonderful. What should I try first?
While I deliberated, the Crown Prince clicked his tongue at my hesitation.
"The food has gone cold. I'll have it brought out again."
"N-no, that's all right."
I stopped him and hastily picked up my spoon, starting with the rice.
"...!"
The instant I chewed, sleep swept clean out of my head.
This is delicious!
Rice... was it always supposed to taste like this?
Even cold, it carried a springy chewiness and a subtle sweetness.
I chewed blankly on the plain white rice, my whole head buzzing with shock.
Rice has this flavor? Plain rice, just by itself, tastes this good?
I knew perfectly well that my tongue had grown a little dull from the painkillers, but I hadn't dreamed the difference could be this vast.
Cold, leftover, unseasoned rice was so delicious it gave me chills.
As I wolfed down one spoonful after another, the Crown Prince set a side dish atop my rice.
"You should eat the side dishes along with it, you know."
It was neobiani, wafting a rich, nutty fragrance.
Will this taste different from what I knew, too?
I studied the well-grilled meat resting on the white rice, then cautiously put it in my mouth.
"...!"
So delicious...!
Truly, so delicious...!
I had braced myself, and still I couldn't help but be stunned.
It wasn't just hunger making it taste better than it was.
Compared to this, every cut of meat the old me had ever known was a strip of paper soaked in soy sauce.
Next to this, that hardly deserved to be called taste at all.
In my mouth, the grains of rice and the neobiani wove together into a spectacular harmony. Two different flavors married into a third, entirely new one.
So this is the real thing.
Only now did I understand why mortals cared so much about food, why they loved delicious things so dearly.
I've lived my whole existence without knowing a single bit of this?
A shudder ran through me until my whole body trembled.
Will everything else be like this too?
Heads spinning, I worked my chopsticks frantically, tasting each dish in turn.
Every single one tasted different. Eaten together, they tasted different again.
I know all these foods, and yet they're all new, all wondrous...
If the cold food was this good, I couldn't even imagine what it must have been like before it cooled.
It's a good thing I came down here. A really, really good thing.
If I'd stayed in my original body, I would have died without ever knowing food could taste like this.
Barely holding back the grateful tears that threatened to spill, I gripped my cheeks in both hands and shivered with joy—when, at last, the Crown Prince sitting across from me caught my eye.
"..."
"..."
I hastily lowered my hands from my cheeks and, with all the elegance I could muster, urged him to eat.
"Please, have some yourself, Your Highness."
"I have already eaten. Please finish it all, my lady."
The Crown Prince smiled faintly and flaked a portion of fish onto my rice.
The white, plump fish flesh looked terribly appetizing. I stared at it blankly, then put a mouthful in.
This is so, so delicious too! What do they call this flavor? Is this what they mean by umami?
Good heavens, I wanted to go back and eat every single dish I'd ever pushed around my plate without enthusiasm!
I was sinking unguarded into bliss when I caught sight of the Crown Prince's face watching me, and flinched.
That expression... that's exactly how I look when I feed Ruwha her snacks.
So at two hundred and nine years old, I look identical to a nine-year-old child.
Yes, wearing Ruwha's body, of course I'd look like a little kid—but still, I have the dignity of the Princess Cheonmyeong to maintain!
Acting like this right after solemnly declaring I'd help him? So much for being taken seriously!
I did my utmost to eat with lofty, grown-up refinement.
I truly did. But my chopsticks kept moving faster and faster.
Every bite was a fresh astonishment, and it left me dizzy.
So this is what it feels like when people say something is delicious...
Before I knew it, my stomach was full. And there was still so much left—I wanted to keep eating...
Why am I so sleepy all of a sudden...
The Crown Prince, Cheon Gyeol-woo, gently laid the young lady—who had begun to nod off, spoon still in hand—onto the bed.
She ought to brush her teeth before sleeping, but she has been through a great deal today, in every way...
Having tucked the blanket around the girl, the boy sat down beside her and looked around the bridal chamber, filled to its corners with the glow of the wedding candles.
Sleep would not come.
It had been two years since he last saw a night with light in it.
For the past two years, the boy had lived inside a jet-black night without a single point of flame.
Today, I meant to die.
Cheon Gyeol-woo fingered the small dagger he kept hidden against his chest.
Right up until he entered the bridal chamber, he had been practicing pressing it to his own vital point.
When the ministers' proposal was accepted and the wedding was confirmed, Cheon Gyeol-woo understood at once that his royal father had sanctioned his son's death.
The boy understood the King's decision.
He was a criminal, an unfilial son who had harmed his own parents, a cursed monster.
But the method he could not accept.
If he was to die, let him die alone—what crime had the bride who must marry him committed? He'd heard the girl was only nine years old.
And so he had prepared the dagger.
If he never entered the bridal chamber at all, it was obvious the ministers would send assassins to kill the little bride.
Only if the bride died somehow could they pin his crimes upon her, after all.
So he had to enter the chamber, if only to hold the assassins back.
But once inside, he had meant to take his own life before his darkness could claim the bride.
He was going to die regardless; he had wanted at least to save an innocent child.
Fearing they might somehow lay the crime of his death upon his bride as well, he had even written a testament in advance.
And his parting words—do not be afraid—had been spoken out of worry alone: that if he wavered in the moment before ending himself, the bride might be swallowed by his darkness first.
I thought I had no choice but to die here.
That the child who had become his wife would stand untouched within his darkness—that, truly, he had never once imagined.
...There is no longer any need to die by my own hand.
He could not believe it.