To Live
A faint flicker of revulsion crossed Royal Noble Consort Suk-bin’s face as she traversed the corridors of Tongmyeongjeon.
After Queen Inhyeon’s illness took a turn for the worse, she had been moved from Changdeokgung to this secluded hall in Changgyeonggung. Suk-bin made a habit of visiting the Queen’s sickbed often. In truth, the Queen’s affliction had already progressed beyond all hope of medical intervention. Suk-bin had long known the grim prognosis from the Royal Infirmary, but far more telling than any physician’s report was the suffocating reek of mortality that clung to this place. A sickening, nauseating stench of rotten blood and festering pus hung thick in the air of Tongmyeongjeon’s corridors.
“Your Majesty. I have come to inquire after your health,” Suk-bin greeted politely, sinking into a formal bow.
Reclining weakly on a backrest, her face ghastly and pale, the Queen managed a faint, bloodless smile. Beneath the quilts, multiple boils on her legs were rotting through, swollen with putrid corruption. Though thick blankets covered her from the waist down, nothing could mask the dreadful odor. Reminding herself of the court maid who had been flogged half to death simply for gagging in the royal presence, Suk-bin firmly suppressed the heave in her throat.
“Tell me some news of the outside,” the Queen murmured, her voice frail and raspy. “Confined to this bedchamber day in and day out, I find myself longing to know how the world turns.”
At her request, Suk-bin smoothed her expression and spoke.
“A few days ago, His Majesty paid a visit to the Jongmyo Shrine. Beyond that, nothing of great note has transpired. Except…”
“Except?”
“It appears His Majesty is drawing close to Hui-bin once more.”
“Ha…!”
The Queen let out a ragged, indignant breath, which immediately dissolved into a fit of hacking coughs. Suk-bin moved swiftly, lifting a bowl of warm water and offering it respectfully to the Queen’s trembling lips.
“That wicked creature… she simply will not rest…”
Tears of bitter frustration welled in the Queen’s hollow eyes.
“Countless lives were extinguished because of that woman. From the moment she set foot in this palace, ominous turmoil has never ceased. How many times did I warn His Majesty that she is the root of calamity destined to ruin this country? Yet he turns back to her yet again? How could he…”
“Pray compose yourself, Your Majesty,” Suk-bin soothed softly. “How could this be His Majesty’s fault? It is entirely due to the deceit and sorcery of Chwiseondang.”
“Not once has that wench come to pay her respects since I fell ill! She refuses to acknowledge me as the Queen. She still clings to the delusion that the throne of the Queen Consort belongs to her!”
Overcome with fury, the Queen gasped for breath, her chest heaving violently, but Suk-bin did nothing to quiet her.
“Does she think I cannot see her pitch-black heart? That wench is undoubtedly looking up at the night sky even now, praying to the moon that I will perish and be carried out of here in a coffin!”
“Do not utter such dreadful words, Your Majesty. You will soon recover your strength.”
“Recover?”
A hollow, mocking chuckle rasped in the Queen’s throat.
Her bloodshot eyes fixed unblinkingly on Suk-bin. Then, with a sudden, jerky sweep of her arm, the Queen threw back the quilt covering her legs.
Suk-bin froze, her breath catching in her chest.
It was not a matter of one or two inflamed boils. The lesions had bloated into monstrous, blackish-red swellings of terrifying proportions. It looked as though her entire lower limbs had merged into a singular, decomposing tumor. Living flesh was literally rotting away before her eyes, radiating an odor so foul it threatened to unravel one’s sanity. Suk-bin gritted her teeth, barely keeping down the bile that surged into her mouth.
“Do you see now, Suk-bin?”
“Your Majesty…”
“I am dying. My end is not far off.”
Gazing down at her ruined legs, the Queen squeezed her eyes shut in agony and pulled the quilt back over them.
“Hui-bin firmly believes she will reclaim this seat once I am gone,” the Queen muttered through clenched teeth, fresh tears tracing hot tracks down her gaunt cheeks. “I will never let that happen. Even if I must become a vengeful ghost, I will stop her.”
Suk-bin remained silent, holding her breath.
“I have already prepared my final testament. Cruel though the King may be, he cannot possibly turn away the dying plea of a wife who suffered nothing but agony throughout her life.”
Suk-bin listened in absolute stillness. The foul reek in the room seemed to vanish from her senses, eclipsed entirely by the Queen’s words. A pledge to prevent Hui-bin from ever reclaiming the crown. A final royal decree left behind in her will to ensure it. Suk-bin hung on every word of the Queen’s blood-soaked grievance.
“The seat of the Mother of the Nation is not a position just anyone may usurp. The woman who sits upon it must possess the requisite grace and qualification. Yes… indeed she must.”
Qualification.
Suk-bin quietly considered her own standing. She had borne Prince Yeoning, preserving the royal bloodline. She had attended the ailing Queen with devoted sincerity. She was the virtuous, gentle mistress of Bogyeongdang, revered and respected by the palace servants. Who could possibly be more qualified than herself?
“Therefore…” the Queen continued in a raspy murmur, “the next Queen must be Royal Noble Consort Gwi-in Kim.”
The thoughts drifting through Suk-bin’s mind came to an abrupt, screeching halt.
“Only a woman of noble, pristine blood like Gwi-in is fit to be Queen. Never again should a woman of base blood reign over this nation as its mother.”
Suk-bin slipped her hands into her wide silk sleeves, concealing her slightly trembling fingertips. A searing wave of suppressed rage roiled deep within her chest.
It was Suk-bin herself who had made the King aware of the deposed Queen Min’s miserable plight years ago. True, it had been part of her own calculated ploy to earn the King’s royal favor, but it was an undeniable fact that her efforts had reignited the King’s pity and paved the way for Min’s restoration to the throne.
Had it not been for me, you would never have been reinstated as Queen.
And yet here she was, praising Gwi-in Kim? Babbling about noble bloodlines? Proclaiming that a woman of base birth must never reign as the nation’s mother?
Suk-bin had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to hold back a cold sneer.
“Suk-bin. Do you not agree?”
“…Your words are entirely just, Your Majesty,” Suk-bin replied smoothly.
Biting her tongue until it ached, Suk-bin offered her formal farewell and stepped out of Tongmyeongjeon. As if the repulsive reek of pus were chasing her down the corridor, her strides grew increasingly hurried.
The doll.
Suk-bin recalled the straw curse doll Yong-hee had delivered as material evidence. Originally, her plan had been to push Hui-bin into a corner the moment she secured concrete proof of sorcery, but she had changed her mind. Queen Inhyeon was not a clever woman, but there was one thing she understood with absolute clarity: her own imminent demise.
The Queen was going to die. Soon, and in excruciating agony.
I must hold onto this evidence until then.
The Queen’s death would never be treated as a mere illness. It would be branded as the tragic murder of the nation’s mother, brought about by Hui-bin’s vicious curses. And when those horrifying rumors set the entire inner palace ablaze with fury…
That is when I shall present this evidence before His Majesty.
A cold, mirthless smirk tugged at the corner of Suk-bin’s lips.
We shall see who emerges victorious in the end.
The Queen would soon rot away into the earth. And Gwi-in Kim was a vain, shallow woman with nothing to her name beyond an illustrious lineage and an inflated sense of self-importance. So long as Hui-bin was struck down, Suk-bin’s grand ambition would inevitably be realized.
“Bong-bong! Time for dinner!”
“Bwuh?!”
I jolted awake with a startled yelp. Seol-hyang was setting down a low dining table in the middle of our room. Through the paper door, I could see the blue shadows of dusk settling over Chwiseondang.
Hwang Bong-bong, have you lost your mind?
Boom-boomi had vanished into thin air, and Yong-hee was our primary suspect. No matter how exhausting the day had been, how could I fall dead asleep at a time like this? And why on earth was my heart thumping so wildly? I couldn’t remember what I’d been dreaming about, but cold sweat was drenching the collar of my undergarments.
“Why are you sweating so much?” Seol-hyang asked, her brow furrowing with worry. “Are you feeling sick?”
“No! Not at all!” I quickly stretched my tiny arms above my head and flashed her a bright, beaming smile. “See? I just had a really good nap!”
Only then did the tension melt from Seol-hyang’s face.
“Eat up quickly so we can head outside. We have to play Jwibulnori and make wishes to the full moon! Did you ever play Jwibulnori back when you lived outside the palace, Bong-bong?”
“Nope, never.”
“Some of the younger aegi-nains burst into tears because they’re scared of the fire,” Seol-hyang chuckled teasingly. “Our Bong-bong is so brave, though, you won’t even bat an eye, right?”
Well, obviously. I had the soul of an exhausted modern graduate student inside me, after all.
“Sun-rye has been a master at Jwibulnori ever since she was a little girl,” Seol-hyang chattered enthusiastically. “Watching her spin those cans is so mesmerizing, you completely lose track of time!”
Seol-hyang prattled on with sparkling eyes, but to be completely honest, I had zero interest in Jwibulnori. When you stripped away the tradition, it was literally just playing with fire. Granted, the palace women had taken precautions—they chose an open clearing far away from the wooden pavilions, and they had lined up buckets of water just in case. But even so, did we really need to mess around with live flames in an era where everything was made of dry wood and paper? A stray spark could turn into a national catastrophe.
Of course, I understood the cultural significance. It was a festive ritual to burn away pests and ward off evil spirits for the coming year, and in an age with almost no entertainment, whirling balls of fire through the dark had to be a thrilling spectacle.
Not that I care, obviously.
…Or so I told myself, right up until the festivities actually began.
Strutting forward with comical arrogance, Chwiseondang’s undisputed heavyweight glutton, Sun-rye, put on an absolute masterclass of a fire show. She whipped the fiery artemisia bundle through the air in sweeping, breathtaking arcs of golden flame.
“Whoaaaa…!”
Before I knew it, I was clapping like an excited seal, completely awestruck. Watching her command the fire with such effortless finesse made me feel thoroughly guilty for all the times I’d secretly wondered whether Sun-rye actually pulled her weight around here given how much rice she devoured.
“Here, Bong-bong. You try it too.”
Sun-rye stepped over and pressed a baton of tightly bundled, dried mugwort into my small hands.
“Just swing it round and round like this. When it burns down, toss it straight into that water bucket over there, understood?”
“Yes! I’ll try!”
At first, I simply drew timid little circles in the dark. I only meant to play along so as not to spoil the mood, but watching ribbons of crimson embers blossom from my fingertips proved surprisingly hypnotic. I traced larger loops, whisked it side to side, and watched the golden trails hang in the crisp night air.
Then, on a sudden impulse, I slashed the burning tip across the empty darkness, stroke by deliberate stroke.
生.
Life. To live.
To anyone watching, it must have looked like a toddler waving a stick of fire in random, clumsy scribbles. But right before my eyes, the character for Life flared vividly against the velvet dark before scattering into fading sparks.
Let us live.
We have to survive. We cannot die.
Not just me alone, but all of us together…
No matter what history says, we are going to make it out alive.
“That is enough for tonight,” Court Lady Han called out, her calm voice carrying across the courtyard. “Before we head inside, let us look upon the moon and offer our prayers. His Majesty is scheduled to visit Chwiseondang tonight, so make haste.”
As if on cue, the court maids clasped their hands together and closed their eyes. In the quiet that followed, I heard Court Lady Han murmuring in a barely audible whisper, praying fervently for Lady Jang Hui-bin’s restoration. A few paces away, Sun-rye was true to form, shamelessly begging the moon for a bowl of rich beef soup every single day.
Beside me, Seol-hyang’s gentle voice drifted into the night.
“Please keep my family healthy, let all of our Chwiseondang family remain safe and sound, and please let our little Bong-bong grow up strong and happy without getting sick…”
A strange, warm ache blossomed in my chest.
Our family.
Our Bong-bong.
Our little bokdeongi…
When had so many people started referring to me as ‘ours’?
I bowed my head and quietly shut my eyes. Naturally, my wish was already decided.
Please, let everyone in Chwiseondang…
Right at that moment.
A sharp, acrid reek of smoke grazed the tip of my nose.