For the World - 2
Upon arriving in Kaepyeong, I headed straight for the imperial palace. I'd already sent a messenger pigeon before leaving Guyongguan, but a remote report and a face-to-face one are bound to differ. Besides, His Majesty might be curious about details I didn't put in the letter. So, with the qilin and that pitch-black furball—no, Do-cheol—strapped to my waist, I reached the rear garden.
"To create monsters that didn't even exist in this world using the power to even craft spirit beasts... How could they be so ferocious and reckless?"
The Emperor, who had grasped the rough situation through the messenger pigeon, let out a sigh and shook his head. His voice sounded genuinely regretful, so the qilin began licking the hem of his robe, as if to comfort him.
"Qilin, you must have been through a lot too."
The Emperor picked up the qilin and gently stroked its head.
If the Emperor felt conflicted about the Mongols' chaos in the realm, the qilin had no choice but to grieve over the sight of its own people going mad. In a way, both were sovereigns sharing the same pain.
- Kiriring...
Even as the qilin cried not in human words but in a beastly wail, it was clear the events at Guyongguan had been quite traumatic. I understood. If I'd been the qilin, it would've been shocking in all sorts of ways. Even spirit beasts revered by the qilin couldn't control ordinary animals, and those beasts had put on spectacles of self-destruction and fusion like nothing else.
"Right Deputy Censor-in-chief."
"Yes, Your Majesty. What is your command?"
"You nearly fell into danger because of these newly emerged monsters. I sent you off confident in your safety, yet it turned out otherwise—how could I not feel ashamed? I owe you an apology."
"Y-Your Majesty!"
The moment the Emperor finished speaking, I prostrated myself on the floor. A sovereign must never casually say "sorry" to a subject. The monarch is always flawless and sacred. Even if a subject's harm stems from the ruler's misjudgment, expressions of regret or compensation are one thing, but uttering "sorry" is forbidden.
"How can you say such things! The monster at Guyongguan was something no one could have imagined! Unless they were hideous, reckless barbarians like the Mongol scum, who would dare dream up such a creature, let alone create it?!"
In truth, calling this the Emperor's misjudgment was a stretch. A leader must consider all possibilities and choose wisely, sure—but how do you account for a fusion of hundreds of beasts? Even generals at war prepare for ambushes, not meteors crashing on headquarters.
"On the contrary, Your Majesty graciously allowed me to go to Guyongguan with these divine beasts. Thanks to your merciful and wise judgment, we uncovered the culprits behind this incident!"
To be precise, it was more a command than permission. I hadn't planned to go near Guyongguan at all, but the Emperor made me. Still, the nuance didn't matter now. Fresh from a safe return, soothing the Emperor's distress took priority over quibbling about the trip.
"Your loyalty and consideration are truly admirable. I know your heart, Right Deputy Censor-in-chief, so rise."
"But..."
"I said rise."
As I cautiously stood, I saw the Emperor smiling faintly.
"You are a subject without equal in the realm. While others bow their heads before me, you seem more intent on comforting me than fearing me."
"How could a mere subject like me comfort Your Majesty? Knowing your mercy as deep as the sea and your wisdom as lofty as Mount Tai, I am but a fool who dares speak, relying on that mercy and wisdom."
"Words like that, other subjects wouldn't dare utter. They'd only say they were honored."
With that, the Emperor approached and patted my shoulder.
"Being with you makes me feel not like the Son of Heaven, but a mere human. You treat me not as a sacred monarch, but as a man with emotions—how could that not please me?"
My heart sank in that instant. Though living in the 14th century, I carried memories and experiences from the 21st. I understood intellectually that the Emperor was inviolably sacred, but my words and actions apparently hadn't caught up.
Hence his remark.
"Don't misunderstand. I truly like you just as you are."
"H-Honored, Your Majesty."
Was it my imagination? That "like" sounded like a declaration of war: 'So I'll never let you go until I die.' Like he'd make me pay dearly for seeing him as a man, not the Emperor.
Having returned from Guyongguan and witnessed that grotesque monster, the Right Deputy Censor-in-chief deserved fitting praise before being sent off. It wouldn't do to keep a weary minister—body and soul—any longer.
'Though I'd love to keep him longer.'
A fleeting selfish urge rose but was quickly suppressed. The Right Deputy Censor-in-chief was a subject pleasing in many ways. Grandson of the indispensable pillar Lord Giwang, heir to Gi Chung Mu Wang with outstanding ability—no need to even mention his diligence. Discussing diligence with a bureaucrat who'd toured the Central Plains was pointless.
Bloodline, talent, character, youth—all perfect. Reason enough for an Emperor's favor. But my real reason for favoring him was another.
'Light and gentle.'
On the surface, absolute loyalty and deference before me, the Emperor. But closer inspection revealed subtle differences from other subjects. He respected me without deifying me. Or rather, he saw me as absolute in mind but didn't follow from the heart.
That fine distinction had become visible at some point. In some cases, it could be seen as disloyalty—harboring improper thoughts before the imperial dignity.
'Where else to find such a subject?'
Yet strangely, it didn't irk me. Quite the opposite—his presence brought peace. Why? Because in his eyes, I wasn't the sacred, all-encompassing great Emperor, but just one human among many? Not a being burdened with the realm's weight, but one with more authority than most?
Honestly, it was a welcome gaze. Compared to my exalted ancestor Emperor Taizu, I fell short. Without my subjects' support, I couldn't advance—so intense loyalty or worship felt excessive; his measured respect suited me better.
'Not something to voice aloud.'
Of course, a secret to bury until death. Such words would undermine my authority—and drag him into treason charges.
"Qilin, Do-cheol."
After staring long in the direction he'd left, I addressed the qilin and Do-cheol beside me.
"What do you think? Was it definitely the Four Evils?"
To gauge the perspectives of the Four Auspicious Beasts and Four Evils, distinct from a human's. Not that I doubted the Right Deputy Censor-in-chief's report. But for such grave matters, cross-verifying multiple testimonies was proper. Ignoring the Four Auspicious and Evils on the Evils' affairs would be like debating poor harvests while ignoring farmers.
- I am certain. It was definitely the work of the Four Evils.
The qilin answered without hesitation at my question.
- But it wasn't just the Four Evils involved.
Do-cheol offered a similar yet differing view.
- You black furball! Saying that again?!
- Did I say I wasn't involved with the Four Evils?! They were involved, but it wasn't just them! And I told you not to call me that!
I quietly stroked the now-bickering qilin and Do-cheol. Furball, huh. Wonder when that cute nickname stuck.
"Speak freely. You mean something besides the Four Evils was involved?"
- ...Just as the qilin is certain of the Four Evils' involvement, I'm certain of another's. Self-destruction was likely Gong-gi's doing, but fusing beasts wasn't.
"No chance of Hundon? The name suggests disrupting natural order and mixing beasts."
- That guy's called Hundon just 'cause his personality's a pain. Unrelated to his abilities.
Learned something unnecessary. How rotten must his temper be to earn "Chaos" among the Four Evils?
- Anyway, it was definitely the Four Evils plus someone else, but I have no clue who.
Watching Do-cheol click his tongue, I rubbed my chin. Per the Right Deputy Censor-in-chief's account, the Guyongguan monster had hundreds of eyes. A massive, bizarre mass.
One entity sprang to mind immediately.
'Taese.'
Also called Taese Sacred Lord, the evil god. Legends described a fleshy lump with thousands of eyes—plausible it created a similar monster. Far-fetched, sure, but with Four Divine Beasts, Auspicious Beasts, and Evils proven real, who could deny Taese? If guardians like the Four Divine Beasts existed, evil gods balanced the scales.
"Was it perhaps Taese?"
- Taese?
Do-cheol's brow furrowed at my words.
- You don't know? Haven't heard since that Wang Mang guy stirred trouble.
- I haven't heard since then either. As long as undisturbed, it stays buried underground quietly somewhere...
I gave a wry smile at Do-cheol and the qilin's exchange. Taese really existed.
- Anyway, the Four Evils' involvement is clear, so I'll lend a hand in this matter.
"Hm?"
- No need to be surprised. One of the Four Evils teaming with some unknown outsider to aid folks north of the Great Wall, beyond the Central Plains? My pride as an Evil won't stand for it. I'd be less pissed if they'd helped rebels here.
Soon, Do-cheol's body began trembling fiercely. Indeed. Shaking like that, he really looked like a furball swaying in the wind. No wonder the nickname.