A Talent to Aid the King
King Munjong, possessed of a talent worthy of assisting the throne, urgently summoned Suyang. After entering Gyeongbokgung Palace and meeting his brother, Suyang returned to Bukchon. Head of the Ilyeongwon. "He's entrusting me with the office that feeds the people..."
Nine years prior, in the autumn, Suyang briefly recalled Hwayeomsa Temple. It had been shortly after his father fell ill and his brother had begun his period of mourning. Suyang's blood had still been boiling back then. Hwayeomsa was worthy of being called the grandest temple in Joseon. Countless monks came and went, and the smoke from burning incense hung low over the entire mountainside. Suyang had stood for a long while before the main hall. The Buddha gazed upon Suyang, and Suyang gazed upon the Buddha. He couldn't fathom what had drawn his steps to Hwayeomsa.
As he turned to leave the main hall, Suyang had encountered Prince Hyoryeong. The prince, renowned for his devotion to Buddhism. Meeting Prince Hyoryeong in a Joseon temple—no, in Hwayeomsa of all places—was less coincidence than inevitability.
"Prince Suyang. Have you come to offer prayers?"
"Uncle, I hope you've been well. I've come to offer prayers for once."
I heard that one day, Prince Yangnyeong burst into Prince Hyoryeong's home and whispered a few words in his ear, and the next day, he donned monk's robes and entered the Buddhist gates.
Prince Hyoryeong had entered the priesthood only to return to secular life after King Taejong's death. Even after that, he spent more time in temples than not. In a land of Confucian scholars, a prince who believed in Buddhism—Suyang believed as well, so among his nephews, Prince Hyoryeong held a special fondness for him.
"I'm the same as always. You've not come to see the Buddha, have you."
Suyang made no reply.
"You've come to see how heavy your attachments weigh."
The wind through Cheonbosan seemed to still for a moment. He wanted to deny it, but no sound escaped Suyang's lips.
"Your brother the Crown Prince is handling regency duties, isn't he? What do you make of it, watching from close by?"
"My brother possesses the qualities of a king. When I said he surpasses even Zhuge Liang, it was no empty flattery."
Prince Hyoryeong gazed at the eave's end of the main hall and spoke.
"Prince Yangnyeong said he would yield the position of Crown Prince. Prince Chungnyeong accepted it. I had nothing to yield, nothing to accept. I was an empty vessel from the start, so the Buddhist path suited me."
"What path suits you, Uncle?"
Suyang made no reply. But suddenly, one thing piqued his curiosity.
Uncle Hyoryeong and I—we're both seconds.
"Did you never have it to begin with? Or did you set it down?"
Prince Hyoryeong, who had been gazing at the main hall, turned to meet Suyang's eyes.
"It was never mine to begin with, so I didn't set it down. And since I didn't cling, I could empty it all."
This time, Suyang looked toward the main hall's eave.
"I know the Buddha's words, but it's not so easy to empty oneself."
Prince Hyoryeong said nothing.
"Uncle, stay well. I'll visit again."
"Come often. The Buddha helps us empty ourselves."
Suyang bowed wordlessly to Prince Hyoryeong and turned away. His figure, heading toward the autumn temple gate, seemed somehow precarious.
"Then... I suppose we must make you empty."
Prince Hyoryeong murmured as he turned back into the autumn temple mists.
I harbored no greed for my brother's throne. Suyang was one who had watched Crown Prince Yi Hyang closer than anyone. He knew full well that Munjong possessed the qualities of a sage king.
Father had two elder brothers yet earned their recognition for his talent. I too hoped Father and Brother would acknowledge mine. But as Brother's health worsened, desire stirred. I wasn't the sort who could empty himself like Uncle Hyoryeong.
A few days earlier, Suyang had lain awake, haunted by the words of the physiognomist Kim Naegyung. He had heard the rumors that the man could see through anyone in Joseon, so he had passed the name to Kwon Ram. And Kim Naegyung had declared that the countenance of a king adorned Suyang's face. His heart shouldn't have raced, but it did. That night, sleep evaded him entirely.
Brother acknowledges me. Just as King Jeongjong yielded to Taejong, he intends to yield to me. An elder brother handing the throne to his younger.
Suyang hadn't begun spying on Gyeongbokgung Palace via Kwon Ram out of intent to rebel against Munjong. If Munjong's health deteriorated further, it was clear that grand ministers like Kim Jong-seo or Hwangbo In would threaten royal authority. Of course, Suyang was no Prince Hyoryeong; he couldn't claim his heart held no ambition for the throne. Yet the thought loomed larger that protecting royal power from those ministers was another chance to earn Munjong's recognition.
Brother has already issued a blood-chilling warning without mercy. He knew all my movements. This time, he says he's sending Kwon Ram to Hamgil-do. Ordering a top exam graduate to extract mackerel oil—what nonsense. Even from Brother, it's absurd. This isn't mere reassignment; it's clearly severing my limbs. Brother's second warning. Yet still, he entrusted me with head of the Ilyeongwon. His final test. Feeding the people. Pass that test, and he'll surely intend to yield the throne. Only then will Brother fully recognize me.
Suyang now believed the grand ministers posed no threat to royal authority. Munjong's health was improving by the day.
If feeding the people is the test, I have the confidence to pass. I've earned Brother's recognition. Sitting alone under the lamplight, Kim Naegyung's words return. The face of a king, he said. My heart raced that day—though it shouldn't have, it did. Brother appointed me head of the Ilyeongwon. Brother to brother succession. He's testing me. If feeding the people is the test, then pass it. I will show a talent worthy of assisting the throne.
After hearing Prince Hyoryeong's words—"Since I didn't cling, I could empty it all"—Suyang had spent nine years unable to comprehend them. But now, nine years later, Suyang could finally empty it all. No—not empty like Prince Hyoryeong. Suyang left behind a single resolve.
Brother can't know everything. To avoid betraying his intentions, I must erase my recent tracks.
Suyang thought of Jeon Gyun and Kim Naegyung. He recalled the story of the gyeongdae he'd heard through Jeon Gyun.
They say Brother stared into the gyeongdae for hours, scribbling furiously with brush and ink. It's no aid to Brother—it's something that wearies him, driving him to ruin. Clearly no treasure to aid the king, but a monstrous anomaly summoning the ruiners of civility.
Suyang reached his decision. A few days later, before sunset, the eunuch Jeon Gyun finished his duties early, left the palace, and never returned. Some time after, in Yeongsanpo, Naju, a black coffin sank into the river. Inside lay a lump of iron and the corpse of an unnamed man. And Suyang's dark heart sank utterly away somewhere as well.
The remaining black coffin went unused. Because Anpyeong had heard the rumors and summoned Kim Naegyung. To Anpyeong, who appreciated the arts, the physiognomist's tales were right up his alley.
It was the night Jeon Gyun vanished from the palace. Munjong had just returned to his chambers when he sensed something amiss. Something had changed. Soon, he pinpointed the source of his unease.
The gyeongdae has been swapped?
There stood not the gyeongdae from his talks with Do-yoon, but a stranger one. Munjong rose swiftly, stood before it, and stared long into the mirror. What it reflected was not Hangul script, but his own face. He hurriedly summoned the eunuchs and lady-in-waiting, but they knew nothing.
Do-yoon restored my breath. But that's not the point. Beyond my health, I was about to pursue works for Do-yoon and the people. Bosan-cheong, Ilyeongwon.
He hadn't told Do-yoon, but Munjong believed him a man from the future. Do-yoon often seemed to know things he hadn't shared.
Do-yoon said his father had ties to Uncle Hyoryeong. Uncle, deep in faith, must have reincarnated to protect Joseon's altars and now watches over me.
That was Munjong's conclusion. But now, he could no longer commune with Do-yoon—no, with Uncle Hyoryeong.
The cough that hadn't emerged even after all-night banquets with envoys suddenly threatened to rise.
"Do-yoon, what am I to do about this."