The Greatest Static
“Yes, that is the truth.” The King’s teeth sank deeper into my neck.
“Ugh….”
“Han Sujin….” The King’s eyes were burning with a fierce, molten intensity. If she applied even a fraction more pressure, my throat would be torn out right here. This bedchamber would be drenched in my blood.
“....” The King pulled her teeth away from my neck.
“Why do you not offer an excuse?”
“Does Your Majesty wish for this humble servant to sing only for you, and to hold an instrument only for your ears?”
“Obviously.”
“Then, how is this lowly man, who possesses no other talent, supposed to earn merit in your eyes?”
“....”
“When carving out their paths, generals take up weapons, merchants take up coin purses, and scholars take up brushes. Should I not, then, take up my instrument?”
“...Fine. I acknowledge there is logic in your words.”
[DESIRE: Wants Han Sujin to stay only by her side]
[DESIRE: Wants to make Han Sujin earn merit]
“However.” The King looked at me directly this time. Her cheeks were slightly puffed out, as if she were sulking.
“Why is it that you do not show or play your music for me?”
“I expected you to say that.”
“Hmm?”
“Hang-a.” When I called the palace servant I had brought with me, they brought in the item they had been waiting outside with. It was my gayageum. The one I had brought all the way from Pyeongyang.
“Ha.”
[DESIRE: Wants to hear Han Sujin’s music]
“I think it was wise to be prepared.”
“Are you implying that I am the type who enjoys listening to the lewd music played by a gisaeng?”
[DESIRE: Wants to torment Han Sujin]
“Is it not true that what Your Majesty truly desires is simply to torment me?”
“You grow more brazen by the day. At this rate, you will try to hold me in the palm of your hand and shake me.”
[DESIRE: Wants to manipulate Han Sujin]
[DESIRE: Wants to be manipulated by Han Sujin]
“I am sorry.”
“Tsk. Someone there!” The King called out toward the door behind her. Someone answered from outside.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Bring the drinking table back in!” And to me, she added, “It is the first drink I am having today.”
“....”
“You wicked thing. You noticed, yet you said nothing. Tsk.” The King suddenly picked up a piece of paper.
“Han Sujin.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I shall tell you my hwi.”
[DESIRE: Wants to bind Han Sujin, even with something trivial]
The hwi referred to the monarch’s true name, distinct from the ja (courtesy name). One must not write the name of the King; this is called pihwi. However, since avoiding the use of characters used in everyday life would be a great inconvenience, the kings of Joseon were given names consisting of rare, obscure characters, and even those were kept known to almost no one. Because if you knew it, you had to avoid writing it.
“My hwi is written like this.” The King scribbled with a brush on the paper. Yung (㦕). It was a character formed by adding the character for ‘high’ (隆) next to the character for ‘heart’ (忄=心). The King smirked.
“Do you understand? From now on, you shall never be able to use this character.”
“The height of the heart. It is exactly as it is.”
The King paused. “...What is the meaning of that?”
“Because the highest person in this humble servant’s heart is Your Majesty.”
“....” The King stared at me intently. “...How surprising. How can you spout such flowery words in an instant?”
“It is because I am a gisaeng.”
“...Tsk. You lewd man.” The King burned the paper with her name on it in the lamp. A eunuch outside the door offered a word.
“Your Majesty, a guest has arrived.”
“Who is it?”
“It is Jinseong Daegun.”
Jinseong Daegun. A name I had not expected to appear now, yet one I had been wary of from the start. Because Jinseong Daegun was the title held by King Jungjong before he ascended to the throne after the tyrant Yeonsangun was ousted.
The King’s gaze shifted between me and the gayageum before me. After a moment of contemplation, she said, “...Tell them to enter.”
Before long, footsteps approached. A woman three or four years younger than the King entered.
“It has been a while, Sister. In the meantime….” Jinseong Daegun spotted me and adjusted her demeanor. “Has Your Majesty been comfortable?”
“Enough, is it not just between you and me, Nakcheon (Jinseong Daegun’s courtesy name)? What brings you here?”
Jinseong Daegun looked around cautiously. “I heard you were having a drink in the middle of the night, and as I happened to come across some fine liquor, I thought I would join you to enjoy it together.”
“Is that not wonderful? Han Sujin, offer your greetings. This is my younger sister, Jinseong Daegun.”
“I greet Your Highness.”
Jaga is an honorific attached to royalty. In the original world, Joseon’s 10th King Yeonsangun and 11th King Jungjong were brothers with the same father but different mothers. If so, in this world, the King and Jinseong Daegun must be sisters with the same mother but different fathers. Indeed, the two looked similar. Both had hair that was black and white on opposite sides, and red eyes. The difference was that Jinseong Daegun’s eyes looked relatively more gentle, unlike the King, who had a fierce impression at first glance.
“Is this the child you have been favoring lately, Sister…?”
“That is correct.”
Jinseong Daegun sent a look full of curiosity. ‘Hmm, I see. Certainly, his beauty is quite excellent.’ Though he was a gisaeng, he was a man who exuded a subtle charm rather than vulgarity. Had I not known beforehand, I would have felt no incongruity even if told he was a young lady from a noble house. ‘It is understandable why Sister would be fond of him. Though giving him the Cheonghyang-gak seems a bit excessive… well, that is Sister’s prerogative.’
Until the drinking table arrived, the two sisters chatted, and Han Sujin sat modestly by their side. ‘As expected, he truly is a decently ordinary man, is he not?’ I wondered how he ended up becoming a gisaeng. Was he a commoner whose family fell into ruin? Or something else?
“Now, receive this cup from your sister.”
“I am overwhelmed, Sister. I shall pour for you as well.”
“Yes, you must.”
And the King spoke to the gisaeng who had been waiting quietly until now. “Han Sujin.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Sing a song.”
“Dare I do so?”
“Of course. Nakcheon, little sister, do you not want to hear it as well? The song of the one who was once the greatest gisaeng in Pyeongyang.”
“The greatest in Pyeongyang…! Could it be that you are Seonwol?”
“I was fortunate enough to gain a reputation that I do not deserve.”
To know humility… he truly is a decent man.
“Hehehe.”
“...Why are you laughing, Sister?”
“It is nothing. I just felt a momentary sense of superiority.”
“...?” What could she mean? She is so unpredictable at times.
“What kind of melody shall I play?”
“Play whatever you are good at.”
“I worry that the music a lowly person like me can play might be too vulgar to perform before two dragons who carry the bloodline of King Taejo.”
“Ho-ho… you are truly refined and polite.”
“Hehehe.”
“Sister, why have you been… never mind.”
Han Sujin lightly plucked the strings of the gayageum. A clear, resonant sound spread through the air.
“Then, what poetry does Your Majesty enjoy?”
“Do whatever you wish.”
“Then, I dare to….”
His fingers smoothly played the gayageum, weaving a melody.
‘Oh-ho.’ Jinseong Daegun was impressed. ‘Compared to the musicians who perform court music, he is not lacking in the slightest.’ It seems the rumor of him being the greatest gisaeng in Pyeongyang is true. Though he said it was an undeserved honor, in reality, it seemed well-earned.
“Seok-il-ak-chak-bu-jok-gwa (Until now I have lived desperately), Geum-jo-bang-tang-sa-mu-ae (From this morning I shall boast wantonly)—”
Jinseong Daegun felt a sense of doubt. ‘Meng Jiao’s After Passing the Exam?’ It was a poem written by a Tang Dynasty literati who passed the civil service exam at a late age and sang of his joy. It was a relatively lesser-known poem, not even included in the Three Hundred Tang Poems. ‘Why on earth would he choose to bring that up in this setting?’ Even if it were a place to congratulate someone who had passed an exam, why do it before the King and her sister?
‘Is he trying to imply something?’ Jinseong Daegun knitted her brows. If so, this was politics. I had suddenly stepped into a scene of political intrigue.
“—Il-il-gan-jin-jang-an-hwa (In one day, I have seen all the flowers in Chang’an).”
The singing finished softly, and this time, Han Sujin asked Jinseong Daegun, “Daegun Jaga, how was this poem just now?”
“...It is a bit wanton, but I think it is spirited and good.”
“Is that so? Then I wonder if you will like this poem as well.”
He played the melody again.
“Dae-do-chu-rae-gu-wol-pal (Waiting for autumn to come and for it to be the eighth day of the ninth month) A-hwa-gae-hu-baek-hwa-sal (When my chrysanthemums bloom, all other flowers will die and wither)—”
At the fierce poetic language, Jinseong Daegun felt a sense of doubt once more. And after reciting only two lines, Han Sujin stopped the poem midway.
“Jinseong Daegun Jaga.” While continuing to play the melody on the gayageum, he asked in a cheerful voice, “Do you know what the next line of this poem is?”
“I have not heard it often… Ah!” I remembered. What poem this was. “Is this not that poem? The Bul-je-hu-bu-guk written by Huang Chao, one of the greatest sinners of the Tang Dynasty, after he failed the civil service exam!”
“That is correct. And what is Huang Chao’s sin?”
“Well, his sin is that he caused the Rebellion of Huang Chao—”
At that moment.
—I wonder if you will like this poem as well.
Having realized Han Sujin’s true intentions, every hair on Jinseong Daegun’s body stood on end.
‘Th-this madman…!!!’
Han Sujin was asking her right now. Whether she, too, had the intention to incite a rebellion. Like Huang Chao, who wrote this poem. Jinseong Daegun’s hands trembled violently. Her teeth clattered together in terror. If she answered incorrectly here, it would mean immediate ruin. At the very least, exile; at the very worst—
‘Th-th-this man has set his mind on killing me…!!’
The fear was so great that she could not breathe. It felt as if thin needles of ice were being driven into every pore of her body.
“Ho-ho…?” And it was the King who also realized Han Sujin’s true intentions.
“Indeed, this is interesting.” Her red dragon eyes turned toward Jinseong Daegun. “What does our little sister think of Huang Chao’s poem?”