The Death Star and the Last Night of Suganggung
Joeui Seonsa waited for an answer, his gaze cool and unmoved.
"Ah, what a grievous thing indeed. That such a hero, in the flower of his eighteenth spring, should find it so hard to escape the star of violent death... How capricious Heaven can be."
"Who among men could ever hope to fathom the will of Heaven?"
Joeui Seonsa nodded slowly and went on. "I have never laid eyes on the man myself, yet I did once divine his fortune. You speak truly. The Death Star casts its ominous glow upon him, and within three years at the latest, a violent death lies in wait. If only he could somehow evade it—then, as you say, he might yet shake the world."
"Is there truly no way for him to escape it?"
"Is that not the very thing you wish to attempt?"
Jeong Ho-chan said nothing, only stared into his master's eyes. An unquenchable, resolute flame smoldered in their depths.
"You know it as well as I. To evade a death already ordained is exceedingly difficult. Sometimes the very path one takes to avoid the star only hastens it. Did your great-grandfather not, in the end, fail to escape that road himself?"
At the old monk's words, Jeong Ho-chan's expression wavered. After a long moment, he let out a heavy sigh.
"Yes, I know. It was a sorrowful thing."
"There was nothing to be sorrowful over. Even the fate of a common wretch is hard enough to alter—how much more the fate of one who rules a nation? Such a man's life and death do not end with himself... One might call it the Mandate of Heaven. It is not something to be overturned by the clever scheming of a single individual."
The conversation lapsed into silence for a while. At length, Jeong Ho-chan spoke again.
"And yet... Master, if you have already read the heavens yourself, then you know full well this is the last chance. For us, it is the final opportunity."
"Not necessarily. Just as a spinning wheel turns and turns again, just as green leaves blossom only to fall, another chance may yet come. But Heaven is indifferent to the affairs of men, and its cycles may span hundreds—perhaps thousands—of years. To mortals who live but a brief span, such an opportunity can only appear once in a thousand years."
"Master, it is precisely because I am but a mortal that I speak!" Jeong Ho-chan cried out.
Joeui Seonsa smiled faintly. "Do you truly believe you can overturn the will of Heaven by your strength alone?"
"I cannot know whether one so unworthy as I possesses the power to change it... and yet, who can say? Who knows what storm a single butterfly flapping its wings in Joseon might raise across the Central Plains? No one can foresee what a single pebble rolling down a mountain may set in motion. Did you not teach me yourself, Master, that a single thread-fine move, at the right moment, can utterly upend even the ever-shifting will of Heaven?"
"Heheh. Did I say such a thing?" Joeui Seonsa laughed again. "But do not forget that even a man like Wolong—Zhuge Liang himself—could not alter the design of the heavens. To change a fate that reaches to the sky, countless threads must interlock before success can even be glimpsed. Suppose that young king does, by fortune's grace, escape his violent death. Whether he then grows into a vessel capable of shaking the world, no one can say. As I told you moments ago, fate alone accomplishes nothing—his talent and his own resolve must bear their weight as well."
Joeui Seonsa paused and drew a slow breath.
"Yes—resolve is the crux of it. A pearl does not lose its luster even buried in a dog's mire, but for all that a thing may be a treasure beyond price, if it has no will to reveal its own light, then all is for naught."
"I know it well, Master. That part I shall see to myself."
Even in the darkness, Jeong Ho-chan's eyes burned. Joeui Seonsa nodded.
"Your mind is already made up. Very well. If that is truly your will, then I shall teach you one move. When the proper time comes, you must use your own judgment to awaken him to it."
Joeui Seonsa recited something brief and simple for Jeong Ho-chan. When he had heard it through, Jeong Ho-chan's face wore a look of mild bewilderment.
"Can this alone truly suffice?"
"Heheh. What did you say with your own lips just now? That a single thread-fine move can change the will of Heaven? Indeed. It is certainly a small move. But how that small move may alter what is to come—even I cannot divine."
"My insight fell short. I will carry it out as taught."
"Mm." Joeui Seonsa nodded.
Cha Gyeong-yeon murmured quietly that the boat was all but arrived at Manpoguja.
"Then this is where we part. The time of parting was long, and the meeting short. But do not think of this as the last. When the time comes, shall our roads not cross again?"
"Yes, Master. May you keep your health, always..."
"I have one final word of caution for you."
"Speak, I beg you."
"To overturn the Mandate of Heaven is a road of thorns for the one who walks it. Take heed that the fire burning in your breast does not, in the end, consume you as well."
"I shall engrave my master's words upon my heart."
Joeui Seonsa watched in silence as his old disciple stepped down from the boat. After a moment, he murmured to himself.
"That one takes after his great-grandfather. His talent reaches to the heavens—if he but meets the right master, his capacities could make him chancellor of a nation, or a founding minister to shake the world. And yet..."
The old monk turned his gaze toward the distant sky and went on murmuring.
"And yet, he is one who would too readily accept a cornerstone laid beyond his strength. He must not trust his gifts and act so rashly. May he keep that firmly in mind..."
Beneath a pale wash of moonlight, the small boat drifted on down the Amnok River.
The fallout from the so-called plot to restore the Retired King reached Hong-wi in the end.
Suyang spoke as though dispensing a great mercy: any soul entangled in treason could scarcely hope to escape death, yet he would grant that his nephew might keep his life.
In exchange, Hong-wi was stripped of his title as Retired King and demoted to Prince Nosan, condemned to exile at Cheongnyeongpo in Yeongwol, Gangwon Province—hundreds of ri removed from Hanyang, a desolate river peninsula ringed by deep water and sheer cliffs.
Hong-wi was fifteen years old.
"However obstinate a man may be, he cannot do this. He cannot..."
Song Hyo-bin wept as she cried out her lament. Through it all, she had stood at Hong-wi's side as his companion and his pillar of spirit, a stalwart ally armed with a will of iron. Now it was she who was coming apart in tears.
"How could I wish to go on living while Your Highness is sent away alone? Where in all the world is there such cruelty as this?"
Hyobin's anguish sprang from more than the demotion and banishment that had fallen upon them both. Even while sparing Hong-wi's life, Suyang had shown his spite by refusing to permit him a single attendant—and had gone so far as to bar his own wife, Hyobin, from following him.
Despite her sobbing, Hong-wi said nothing, only staring mutely at the ceiling. It was a long while before he finally spoke.
"The road itself will be perilous, and Yeongwol lies buried deep in the mountains, a remote and wretched corner of the realm. How could I ask the Queen to come with me to such a place?"
His voice was flat, drained of all feeling.
"Your Highness!" At his words, Song Hyo-bin drew back, staring at him in dumbstruck disbelief. "If it were Suyang who said such a thing, I could endure it. But how can you say this to me, Your Highness? You, too, are far too cruel!"
Hyobin fell prostrate to the floor and wept in silence. Her grief was so piercing that even Hong-wi, whose resolve had long since hardened, found himself forced to look away.
"My Queen."
Only after a long interval did Hong-wi release a heavy sigh.
"You knew as well as I that I could not sit upon this seat for long. In truth, viewed from my uncle's position, it is nothing short of strange that he let a walking bundle of kindling like me live this long. He had the eyes of the world to mind, I suppose—but soon he will not even that to consider."
Hyobin kept her head bowed and listened without a word.
"Yes, that is surely how it will be. Seong Sam-mun, Park Paeng-nyeon, Yi Gae, Ha Wi-ji... With this affair, my uncle has sounded his warning to the court and to the whole nation. Who remains in this country who can stand against him now? And even if such a one existed, how could he succeed? When the time comes, my uncle will take this life of mine."
Hong-wi shifted his gaze to Hyobin. He spoke in an even tone, as though he had already had a premonition of the fate awaiting him.
"...I do not know in what manner that end will come. But I do not wish for you to be there to see it."
"Your Highness." Hyobin lifted her head. "Look at me."
Hong-wi turned to her with a reluctant expression—and in that instant, he drew in his breath.
My Queen...
At some point, Hyobin's tears had stopped. The tear-filled eyes of the woman who had been so frail moments before now flashed cold and bright with hardened resolve.
For a heartbeat, Hong-wi was spellbound. It was the same unyielding allure that had seized hold of him, from somewhere deep within, from the very first moment he had laid eyes on her.
"Guard your precious body, I beg you. So long as you live—so long as you draw breath—a new day will come. However bloodless and pitiless they may be, they cannot kill you without cause."
"Do you think so?" Hong-wi nodded, though he could hardly bring himself to believe it. Would his uncle, of all men, truly fail to manufacture such a cause?
But Hyobin's next words startled him.
"Then I swear it—I will come to attend upon you in death."
"What?"
Was she jesting? But her face was utterly grave.
"However thick the storm clouds gather, they cannot blot out the brilliant sun forever. There are still men of loyalty and righteousness left in this country, and so, surely..."
"My Queen!" Hong-wi's voice cut like a blade. "Harbor such thoughts not even for a moment. Enough people have died innocently on my account. This capital already—and this royal robe—reeks of blood."
He shuddered, as though he could smell the sickening stench of blood rising from the very garments he wore.
"What worth do I possess—what worth could I possibly have—that people must stake their lives for me and die so wretchedly, one after another?"
All ambition for the throne had long since crumbled away, leaving nothing but disillusionment behind. What was this seat worth? What in the world was it worth?
Hong-wi ground his teeth.
"Hear me, my Queen. The stench of blood is heavy enough already. And above all, I could not bear for you to come to harm because of me. And what of your family? What fault is theirs? If they have any, it is only that they gave you, unfortunate soul that I am, to me in marriage. So promise me!"
Hyobin kept her head lowered, evading his plea.
"Look at me."
Only when he pressed her again did she reluctantly raise her face.
"You must promise. To my uncle, the root of this calamity is me and me alone—which means, by the same token, that you are safe. So long as you do nothing reckless."
Hong-wi smiled a desolate smile.
"So promise me. Promise that you will live, whatever becomes of me..."
"Your Highness!" A thin cry escaped Hyobin's lips. "Speak no such dreadful words, not even in dreams! If anything befalls you, Your Highness, then my life will be no life at all..."
"Forgive me, my Queen."
Hong-wi's own throat had closed. Wordlessly, he stroked her shoulders.
"I spoke carelessly and disturbed your heart. I am sorry."
"Your Highness..."
And so the two of them passed their last night in Suganggung, neither closing their eyes.
The duty of escorting the prisoner under guard to Hanyang fell to Eo Deuk-hae, Associate Commissioner of the Royal Secretariat.
Eo Deuk-hae, inwardly displeased at the assignment, summoned Hong Deuk-gyeong, Director of the Royal Household, and Kim Ja-haeng, Director of the Military Supply Office.
"There will be no lapses in the transport of Prince Nosan to his exile in Yeongwol, will there?"
At his question, the two men glanced at each other briefly, then answered in unison. "No, sir. We have drawn off fifty soldiers—all dependable men."
"A royal command has come down to exercise the utmost vigilance on the road to Yeongwol. Not a hair's breadth of negligence will be tolerated. The rebels' remnants may launch an ambush..."
Eo Deuk-hae drove home the warning, and the two nodded repeatedly.
"Good. Any other business?"
"Well, then... how are we to treat Prince Nosan?"
It was Kim Ja-haeng who blurted out the tactless question in response to what had been a purely rhetorical remark. Eo Deuk-hae's irritation flared.
"What do you mean, how to treat him?"
"Well, on the journey—what manner of treatment is he to receive...?"
"You fool, that is what you call business? Prince Nosan is a traitor. A traitor..."
Kim Ja-haeng had clumsily stumbled onto the very subject that had been nagging at Eo Deuk-hae's own conscience, and the man snapped at him. Kim Ja-haeng hunched his neck down into his shoulders and mumbled.
"S-still, he was a king once, was he not...?"
"Then you see to him yourself and coddle him all you like! If word gets out that you fawned over a traitor and someone raises a clamor over it, do not come crying to me!"
Eo Deuk-hae let his irritation out in full. In truth, he too felt deeply uneasy about the whole affair.
A traitor—by any honest reckoning, who was the real traitor here?
The whole world knew the answer, but no one dared breathe it aloud.
Eo Deuk-hae clicked his tongue. Damn it all. I'll catch every curse the world can hurl at me for this... but ah! Better to swallow a few curses than to hand someone a pretext to raise a storm over my head.
He steeled himself. In times like these, showing undue warmth toward Hong-wi invited calamity of who knew what kind.
"Now hurry home, all of you, get ready for the road, and come back... Half a si-clock's time, yes?"
"Yes, sir."
Having dispatched the two men, Eo Deuk-hae hurried home as well.