Arong Arong (5)

The lakeside where Jung Yeon-hwa no longer came. As Lee Hwi tended to his blade, the past rose up around him.

"Remain still, as one dead."

"······."

"This seat is not yours."

It was the words he had heard on the day the Crown Prince, Lee Geon, was born.

He could not see the face of the King seated upon the throne — his father — for he himself was pressed flat against the floor, forehead to the ground like any common subject.

It seemed to say everything about his place. Not as blood kin, but as a piece left on the board.

"You are nothing but a blade for the Crown Prince."

"······"

"Answer me."

"······Yes, Your Majesty."

"Make ready to depart for the northern borderlands."

"I shall······ receive your command."

For fear that the boy Lee Hwi might one day threaten the Crown Prince, they had sent him off to warfields while he was still young. And every time he won distinction in battle, sinister rumors swept through the capital. A prince drunk on slaughter. A madman. Fallen into debauchery before he was even grown.

"Hyung-nim."

Now and then, when he returned to court, the boy was always there. Born to be named Crown Prince, draped in azure dragon robes, he moved through the palace as though it were his own yard.

[From the moment you put on these robes······.]

The confrontation between Lee Geon and Lee Hwi surfaced in his mind. It meant the same thing as you were never my brother to begin with.

"Hyung-nim!"

"······What is it now."

He shouldn't have answered that day. It had been his mistake — unable to cast off a small child who simply followed him because it pleased him to, he had occasionally humored the boy with conversation. This child wasn't as repulsive as he'd assumed.

"What would you do, if you became King?"

"I would want every soul living in this kingdom to live well and be happy."

The people? Lee Hwi snorted. Could such an abstract dream ever actually be realized?

"That is no easy task, I assure you."

"But I won't know unless I try, will I?"

"Is that so."

So you and I could never walk the same road.

The fleeting recollection ended, and Lee Hwi let out a faint, dry chuckle at the sight of a group hurrying toward him from the far shore.

The Jung Yeon-hwa he had ached for so desperately stood at Lee Geon's side.

"You are late. The one you sought — I have already killed."

The witness who could have exposed his uncle's corruption — Lee Hwi had found him first and cut him down.

"Hyung-nim!"

"'Hyung-nim'······ I told you never to call me that."

And yet the only one who still treated him as family to the very end was Lee Geon. Lee Hwi knew that well enough — but he also knew he had already crossed a river from which there was no turning back.

"Go. Today is not the day."

His heart wanted nothing more than to draw his sword against Lee Geon on the spot. But with Jung Yeon-hwa standing there, he could not.

In the subtle shifts of Lee Hwi's expression as his gaze moved between Lee Geon and Jung Yeon-hwa, the audience could feel the full weight of his inner conflict.

So he had thought he might weather this crisis by removing the most important piece first.

"It was a decoy."

"F-forgive me, spare me!"

As it turned out, he had fallen for a diversion. The real witness was already smuggled away by Jung Yeon-hwa, armed with the memories of her former life.

"Haha!"

Bound hand and foot by incontrovertible evidence, Lord Yu found himself paralyzed. His greatest ally could no longer move. The plan had come undone.

From the moment Lee Hwi laid eyes on Jung Yeon-hwa at Lee Geon's side, a madness seized him — and at last, he resolved to seize the palace by force.

Earlier than her previous life's timeline, even for Jung Yeon-hwa's knowledge.

"The time is not yet ripe, my son."

"Mother, I am not asking for your blessing. I am informing you."

Noble Consort Yu's face twisted for an instant before she forced it smooth again. Lee Hwi had his back to her — but he watched her expression change in the mirror all the same.

He had never trusted anyone to begin with. Not his mother, not his uncle — and not Jung Yeon-hwa either.

"Hwi-ya."

"Do not call me that."

"······."

"I will not remain a tool any longer."

He wasn't truly her blood anyway. Did she think he didn't know he'd been taken in as an adopted son for the sake of power?

Lee Hwi began his final struggle. He would not spend his whole life as a stepping-stone for his mother's ambition, as a pawn of his father, as a blade wielded to prop up Lee Geon.

"We move on the palace."

"Yes, my lord!"

Black combat garb, and a sword trailing long against the floor. It looked remarkably like the Lee Hwi glimpsed in episode one.

"What manner of kingdom do you dream of, my lord?"

"Well······."

In the meantime, Lee Geon — his former life's memories restored — belatedly sinks into regret, and Jung Yeon-hwa forgives him.

The two draw rapidly closer, and at last reunite.

"I just······ want everyone to be happy."

Even as he grows powerful, reclaiming one treasured item after another through his past-life memories, Jung-in remains unchanged — and Jung Yeon-hwa smiles brightly at him.

Having seized the palace, Lee Hwi reached the King's chamber.

"It is I. Hwi."

"Since ancient times, a righteous sovereign has looked after his hundred thousand subjects······."

"Why did you do this to me?"

The King who had once seemed towering as a mountain had sunk into senility, his mind no longer his own. Lee Hwi laid his sword down before him and sat.

The wavering shadows of candlelight played across Lee Hwi's face, mirroring the trembling of his heart.

"Did you despise me so very much?"

"A sovereign must weigh the loyalty of his ministers······."

"Did you ever once think of me as your son?"

The King, who had been murmuring passages from old texts into the empty air, let his gaze come to rest on Lee Hwi.

A spark flared in those glazed eyes. For a moment, his consciousness returned.

The King was played by Yoo Gwang-seok, a veteran actor whose command of the stage was legendary throughout the theater world. The sheer force with which he seized the room in a single breath drew Yoon Jay's own immersion deeper still.

"Did you think I did not know your nature?"

"······!"

"You were savage. Cruel."

I hate this man. And yet, in the end, I want him to acknowledge me.

He had braced himself for it to some degree — but the answer still came back as a wound. A crack split across Lee Hwi's expression.

A montage of the King's memories passed. The boy Lee Hwi killing a small animal for no reason but amusement. Beheading his own adjutant on the battlefield for being useless. Staring with a chilling, dead-eyed gaze, asking why killing should require a reason at all.

"Was that alone enough to cast me aside?"

"Enough?"

The King thundered back, his unblinking eyes boring into Lee Hwi.

Those bloodshot eyes gleamed with something terrifying — but Lee Hwi did not look away. He met the King's stare with one exactly the same.

The take ran unbroken. Two actors burning through a single take without a single NG — the crew swallowed their breaths.

"A true sovereign knows compassion even for the lowliest of creatures! Only then may he cherish and tend his kingdom and his people with······."

"The people! Always the people!"

Lee Hwi shot to his feet and began to pace the same patch of floor back and forth, like an animal caught in a stereotypy.

Then he snapped his head up. Gone was the son who had only wanted his father's acknowledgment — what remained was a stranger who had gone entirely mad.

"Cherish them, care for them, and they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠take it as their natural right and stop striving. Humor their voices a little, and they quiet down — that is what the people are. Differ the rewards by rank, and they split apart and tear at each other! Those······!"

Then, abruptly, he bent at the waist and brought his face close to the King's.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wavering candle shadows were gone now. A gust had snuffed the flames, and only the killing light in Lee Hwi's eyes glinted sharp and clear in the dark — while the King's face, by contrast, was lit bright. A portent, perhaps, of each man's future.

"Are the people of this kingdom."

The muscles of his face twitched in fine spasms, his voice straining at the seams of his throat — such was the ferocity of his performance that the King, unwilling to hear any more of this twisted reasoning, squeezed his eyes shut.

"······A sovereign, you see, once he has resolved upon a thing, does not look back."

At last he drew a long, deep breath and let it out slowly, easing the tension from the air. It was not that he had lost the argument. He had simply grown tired of listening.

"And yet here, in this very moment······."

"······."

"You are still begging for my affection."

It was not encouragement. Nothing would change no matter how he begged.

You will remain the prince who committed treason against his king, and I will die a king murdered by his son — so do not quibble over how I treated you in the past. Carry out what you have resolved to do.

Even spoken in that weary voice, Lee Hwi's expression did not waver. It meant he would not be shaken — not now, not ever again.

"You are not fit to be a sovereign."

"That is for me to decide."

All clarity drained from the face before him, leaving behind a senile old man muttering at empty air. Lee Hwi drew his sword from its sheath and raised it high.

And the scene changed.

"My lord!"

"What is it."

Lee Geon, in the middle of a happy hour with Jung Yeon-hwa, received the urgent report of his subordinate.

"The Grand Prince, he······!"

Lee Hwi had raised his coup, and Arong Arong finally had only its final broadcast remaining. The production staff, having rented out a barbecue restaurant for the wrap party, had even laid out a small red carpet at the entrance.

So this is a thing.

Behind-the-scenes promotion through social media, wrap parties — all of it was a first for him. As Yoon Jay stepped out of the car and made his way down the designated path, the press cameras whirred into a flurry of activity.

"Jay-ssi! Show us a heart!"

Is this how it's done? The finger heart, at least, Yoon Do-hwa had taught him. But posing for cameras was something he'd never done, and the awkwardness lingered in his hands.

"Give us another pose!"

"Flower petals!"

Is there really a demand for this? He shamelessly struck the pose and then all but fled into the restaurant.

"Hello, everyone."

"Jay-ssi!"

"You're early!"

The moment he stepped inside, the staff greeted him in one voice.

"What is all this?"

"Gifts from the drama's fans. They made that banner for us too, every bit of it."

"Wow······."

Mouth hanging open, he stared blankly up at the enormous banner, and the corners of the staff members' mouths curled upward.

He really does have that fresh-faced rookie charm at moments like this. All that savage acting on set, and look at him now.

"This one's yours, Jay-ssi."

"Thank you······ Oh? How's your hand?"

"It's fine. Thanks to you······."

Park Min-ji of the makeup team smiled shyly. A red scar still remained, she said, but it would fade away clean before long.

While Yoon Jay stood dazed, taking in the snacks and cakes the fans had prepared, someone gave his arm a little tug. He looked down to find three children grinning up at him.

"Hello, kids."

"Hello, hyung!"

They were the young youngest prince whom Lee Hwi had nearly done away with in the drama — Lee Yul — along with the child actors who had played young Lee Geon and Lee Hwi.

He patted them on the backs in greeting, and the children fluttered off to bow to other grown-ups.

"They're adorable."

"Aren't they? The kids really can act, too."

Yoon Jay's thoughts drifted, unbidden, to his own past.

On the set of The Child, they had worried his body would lock up from playing cerebral palsy, so a specialist masseuse had been assigned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to him, and his condition had been managed with great care.

But on the sets of the ads and productions that came after? They fussed and fretted if he so much as won a single award, saying openly in front of everyone that this is why child actors are so high-maintenance.

He would learn later that it was Lee Young-chang, uniquely, who had looked after him so well — the industry average was much closer to the latter.

"I've heard child actors get treated badly, but the kids all look so cheerful."

"Apparently that's how it used to be, but that's ancient history now."

"Really?"

"Yes, that's old news. Ever since the 'Yoon Jae-hee Special Act,' agencies learned the hard way that mistreating child actors lands you in serious trouble."

"······What's that?"

Of all the names to come up······. Yoon Jay's body flinched, but Park Min-ji didn't notice.

"Do you know the actor Yoon Jae-hee? The one who won awards for The Child."

"······Yes."

That would be me, actually.

"He became the youngest ever to win Best Actor at an international film festival, and then up and vanished before anyone could even think about nurturing that talent. After that, it became a talking point in political circles — Director Lee Young-chang stepped up, even the KE Group, the whole film industry rallying behind it."

"······I see."

"The most famous beneficiaries of that law are Kwon Min-jae and Baek Da-eun······ anyway, every child actor from that era owes something to that law, if you ask me. They took down the predatory agencies. Exposed the parents who had no shame, too."

Having said all that, Park Min-ji suddenly looked up at Yoon Jay.

"Now that I think of it — Yoon Jae-hee, Yoon Jay. The names are similar, aren't they?"

"Haha. They are, aren't they."

He laughed, a little sheepishly. And yet······ so back then, I was a help to someone.