The Tiger Hides Its Claws

Prince Suyang. December 21st, Sunday. I slept in for the first time in ages. Yesterday's Gatong chat with King Munjong wrapped up on an intense note—his pure devotion to Queen Hyeondeok, the ever-dutiful husband. As a doctor, I was pleased that the Oyster Rockefeller recipe I'd shared turned out better than expected. I'd come up with it as a desperate pivot after Munjong got so sick of oysters, turning to a Western-style dish. But sourcing ingredients available in Joseon ended up creating a surprisingly solid nutritional profile: complex of zinc, vitamins A/C/D/E/K, plus animal fats as a vehicle for better fat-soluble vitamin absorption.

December 21st. It had been a full month since Gatong connected me with Munjong. I bolted upright and, shoving everything else aside, pulled up his clinical record to review the plan section again.

Munjong had powered through Jeon Sun-ui's oyster stew without issue, but I still needed to check for allergies. They seemed to be adding radish greens to the soup regularly, which could lead to excess vitamin A. Vitamins D or E weren't likely to overload with the current diet. Lately, I'd been so caught up thinking about his remarriage that I'd slacked on proper history-taking. Even when sharing the Moryeomakjeok (Oyster Grill) recipe, I hadn't done a full health check. Pretending it was a morning greeting, I sent a Gatong message.

Good signs. Subjective, sure, but all symptoms trending positive. If I could Gatong with Jeon Sun-ui, I'd get objective data, but this would have to do.

Unlike pulmonary TB, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠boils clearly respond to Bosinsijok and diet. He'd been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at it for over two weeks now—blood circulation should've improved noticeably. I figured his immunity was steadily rising, even if not dramatically yet.

I added a quick note to the clinical record.

I fished noodles from the pot I'd set to boil when Gatong started. Breakfast was jjajang ramen. As I wrapped up the pleasantries, another message pinged from Munjong.

I paused mid-stir, chopsticks clattering down on my half-mixed jjajang ramen. Second younger sibling. Siblings didn't specify gender, so it could be Princess Jeonghye. But no. Not logical analysis—gut instinct. Yi Yu. Prince Suyang. Had to be him.

I knew Sejo well. Hell, I knew all Joseon's kings. The Gyeyu Coup too. But with Gatong active, I couldn't rely on memory alone. Time to search.

Since connecting via Gatong, Munjong's lifespan had shifted—from 1452 to 1453. No clue yet on the exact month in '53. The Gyeyu Coup was Danjong Year 1, October 10, 1453. Low odds it'd hit the exact historical date now. But given the current trajectory, it'd happen eventually. Maybe delayed to 1454, becoming the Gapsul Coup.

Prince Suyang colluded with Han Myeong-hoe and others, mobilized troops, personally bludgeoned Kim Jong-seo to death with an iron mace. Killed Hwangbo In too. Exiled Prince Anpyeong to Ganghwa Island, appointed himself Chief State Councillor. Eighteen days later, forced Anpyeong's suicide. Next year, pressured Danjong to abdicate. In 1457, demoted him to Prince Nosan and exiled to Yeongwol, then sent poison. Danjong was just seventeen.

I merged my historical knowledge with the search results, piecing together the 1450s timeline. But right now, Suyang hadn't done anything coup-like. Annals showed the opposite: Involved in Hangul creation under Sejong, handled military affairs, contributed to statecraft. Attended Buddhist services, sponsored temples. Mingled with officials. Even appointed to head the Office of Special Crafts for music practice the year Munjong ascended—despite protests from the Office of Censors, which Munjong ignored.

Diligent. Deeply pious. Capable. Loyal to his brother. But on the flip side: Recruiting Han Myeong-hoe, Kwon Ram, building his faction. The tiger hid its claws like that. The coup succeeded because everyone let their guard down. Because they never suspected.

That claw-hiding tiger, Prince Suyang. I agonized long and hard. Warn about him? Straight-up say, "Your brother rebels in two years"? Logically, no. But silence changes nothing. So I decided to speak—just circuitously.

I set my phone down and stared at the half-mixed, now-cold jjajang ramen. No direct way to warn Suyang. No way to reveal the future to Munjong. But one thing I could do: Protect the man whose lungs needed to hold out. Restore his breath. No different from my job as a modern pulmonology resident.

Keep Munjong alive long-term, and Suyang couldn't move. Might not be enough. No guarantee Suyang wouldn't coup against Munjong instead of Danjong. Unknowable to anyone in 1451—or 2025.

Either way, while Suyang hid his claws, I had to focus on giving Munjong room to breathe. I slurped the ruined ramen, then reboiled a fresh batch. Knowing sauce would smear my mouth, I kept one hand on my phone.

Kim Jong-seo was alive right now. Hwangbo In too. The Six Loyal Subjects—Seong Sam-mun, Pak Paeng-nyeon, and the rest—alive. A world where they stayed that way. A world where Munjong lived. That's the path Munjong and I had to take.

Separate what I could do from what I couldn't. Stopping Suyang? Beyond me. Restoring Munjong's breath? That's my domain.

Finally, I sent the Gatong message.

Come afternoon, Munjong would bask under the eaves with an attendant for about fifteen minutes. Dinner: eobyeong hotpot with radish greens. Or maybe Moryeomakjeok.

Munjong might miss Suyang's hidden claws. But Suyang could never see me beyond Gatong. Never.

Rare day off, gone pondering Munjong's Joseon. Sleep evaded me. "Suyang" echoed in my head. He was 34 now. Still doing nothing. History's Gyeyu Coup was just text: years, dates, names, events. Late night, I reopened the clinical record.

2026 loomed. March, I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hit third-year residency. Munjong faced 1452. Modern searches said he'd die in '53, but the Annals of the Joseon Dynasty still listed May '52. One job: Restore Munjong's breath. Repeating those words, I drifted off unawares.