Beauty and Ugliness
Beauty.
And the ugliness set against it.
Or perhaps — the moment something is set against beauty, it becomes ugly.
Even what is ordinary, even what is a little better than ordinary, may turn ugly the instant it is placed beside overwhelming beauty.
And if what stands before it is not merely beauty, but a beauty so oppressive, so terrible —
Before such violent beauty, it may become a cruelty of ugliness.
"Make the flowers bloom."
In a place even the ministers of the court did not know — the private grounds where the imperial family of Geon resided — the Emperor brought his two children before a pair of withered, dead trees and spoke those words. It was a test of their magic.
"I receive Your Majesty's command."
Make flowers bloom on trees that cannot bloom. If so, one need only make something bloom in the flowers' place.
While Hyeoneum pressed his hands together and concentrated, weaving his spell formula, young Gayul said nothing. She simply rested her hand against one of the trees and gazed at it.
"Ohh…"
At last, scraps of paper in every color fluttered up into the air, and the Emperor nodded with satisfaction. In midair the fragments split and joined of their own accord, shaping themselves, then settled upon the branches like butterflies alighting — and a splendid flowering tree stood complete.
Even for a Cheomyeopin born with a gift for magic, it was exceptional skill for a boy of his age.
Having set the last paper flower in place, Hyeoneum knelt, breathing hard. He glanced sideways. His younger sister Gayul still had done nothing at all. She merely kept her hand on the tree.
A round silver ornament glinted at Gayul's ear — fitted there to hold the shape after the tip had been cut away not long before.
At last Gayul opened her mouth and asked an absurd question.
"Was what you just said an imperial command?"
Her father the Emperor furrowed his brow as well.
"And if We say it was not an imperial command — what then would you do?"
Gayul looked quietly up at the tree.
"If it is not an imperial command, then though it is presumptuous and I beg forgiveness — I would rather not obey."
"That is to say, you could obey?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The Emperor's curiosity stirred — at the respectful phrasing, at the brazen substance of the words, and at the bored expression that accompanied them all.
"Then it is an imperial command. Obey."
"…I receive Your Majesty's command."
By the time he realized that the emotion which had briefly stilled Gayul's voice was sorrow —
the tree bloomed.
Fresh buds swelled forth; from each of them a blossom burst open, pure and clear.
Softly, softly, pale pink cherry petals began to fall.
"…It was alive?"
The Emperor himself, and every gardener, had long believed the tree dead.
"Faintly — so very faintly… it was preparing one last struggle to go on living."
Gayul stood beneath the rain of petals, looking up at the tree.
"But now, it is dead."
Everything it had desperately hoarded for that final struggle, she had burned away and turned into a single day's fireworks.
And so, of course, it had to die.
"We… were shortsighted."
An emperor cannot apologize lightly. An emperor must not apologize. And so even the briefest sigh that such a being lets fall weighs far heavier, and is worth far more, than any common man's plea.
But Gayul quietly shook her head.
"No, Your Majesty."
It was not merely that she declined the apology.
"That is what an imperial command is. This girl thanks you for the lesson."
And the girl bowed to the Emperor.
Three times, according to the rites for addressing the sovereign.
The Emperor had no choice but to endure a gesture of gratitude for the most shameful lesson he had ever given in his life — hands clasped behind his back, unable even to look away.
But Hyeoneum was not the Emperor. Still on his knees, he stared up at the tree.
How?
Never mind how she had known life still remained in the tree — how had she made it bloom?
He could not even imagine it. Imagination is only possible when one already possesses some measure of knowledge about a thing.
Beneath the scattering cherry petals, his younger sister's face as she bowed looked bored.
She had performed a feat as if it were nothing — and looked for all the world like a prisoner bound and caged.
That day, for the first time, Hyeoneum felt murderous intent toward his sister.
"Hup!!"
Yujeong caught the sword qi Hoeyeon unleashed.
"Ahahahahahahaha!!!!!!"
Laughing as her blood boiled over, Yujeong kicked off the ground and charged at Hoeyeon. Hoeyeon met her, struck back, and the clash of blade seeking to overpower blade went on.
KWAANG!! KUKWAAAANG!!!! Every time they fought, stone shards sprayed like shrapnel and wild sword qi tore through the air — and Gayul's barrier held it all at bay.
"How much longer can you keep it up?"
"Five minutes? Seven, if I absolutely must — but I'd rather not push it."
She did not want to harm this magnificent scenery. At Gayul's words, Arang nodded with satisfaction.
And after the two inside the barrier crossed blades a few more times, all four of them amicably sank back into the bath together.
"Aaaaah… it's melting… melting…"
"Hweeeeh…"
When the hot spring's power restored their internal energy, they did not simply stop at recovery. They drew just a little of the force of this place itself.
In the peculiar environment of Geumdo, where the air was thick with mana, they had learned the sensation of drawing power from beyond themselves.
They applied that feeling here. They filled themselves just a little past full, immediately spent it, then recovered again — over and over.
In principle, it was almost identical to building muscle through exercise.
And just as with exercise, greed was forbidden.
Forcing in more power than one's limits could hold risked serious injury — and, at worst, could shatter the balance that held this mystical space together.
"It sounds grand when you explain it, but what we're actually doing is just fighting and sitting in a hot spring…"
"Art thou complaining…?"
"Nngh… I like it……"
"I like it too…"
"…"
"Hey, Gayul's dozing off."
"I wasn't aslee— hyaaaawn…"
"Hehe… oh right, I was thinking we could have chicken later — do we have a pot or anything?"
"There ought to be one… mnyaah…"
"I feel bad that thou art always the one cooking… hyaawn…"
Then out of the water again, to spend their internal energy.
"Might this humble one join in as well?"
"Arang! Fight me! Fight me! Come on, come on!!"
"Calm down a little! You're going to start drooling— wait, she actually is drooling!?"
After spending it, back into the water to recover — and soak just a little longer.
"Mwaaah…"
"Heeugh…"
"Uwaaah……"
"…"
They repeated it all day long, and by night Hoeyeon was sprawled out flat inside the house.
"…Sleepy."
The water here hastened the recovery of internal energy and mana, but swinging a sword from dawn to dusk still drained ordinary physical stamina to a great degree.
That could only be restored by rest — and the scalding spring water had left her body soft and limp as melted wax.
"Tired? You two go on and sleep first."
Of the four, Gayul was in the best condition. She had not had to move her body herself, after all.
"I am tired, but…"
When Hoeyeon rolled over, not only Gayul but Arang as well was looking down at her with a smile.
"Where's Yujeong?"
"Already asleep."
Where Gayul pointed, Yujeong had collapsed without even properly pulling up the blanket.
"I'm not yet, actually……"
Yujeong protested, but her voice made it plain she could drop off at any moment.
"Hoeyeon, and Yujeong as well — if thou art sleepy, simply sleep."
"…I want us all together."
At Hoeyeon's words, Arang giggled.
"Since when didst thou become so good at acting spoiled? I thought it was Yujeong speaking."
From behind them Yujeong made a discontented noise of protest, but Hoeyeon only smiled faintly and said,
"Today."
"Today, is it."
Gayul smiled.
"Well now — is it not fine to indulge a little spoiling now and then?"
So saying, Arang lay down beside Hoeyeon.
"True enough. Yujeong, you come as well."
With a soft little laugh, Gayul beckoned to Yujeong, who still lay sprawled some distance away on her own.
"Um… I can't get any strength into my body…"
"I could tell from the moment you spent the whole day raising that ruckus."
"B-but! It's been so long since I could really fight properly! And on top of that, eonni and Arang — two different flavors!"
"Don't treat people like flavors. Don't treat people like flavors… Arang, I can see exactly what you're thinking."
"Tsk."
Arang clicked her tongue, and Gayul took hold of Yujeong by the arms and legs and gently dragged her over.
"Uweh… thank you…"
"Well then — everyone's lying down, so I'll put out the light. Only don't close your eyes just yet."
"Huh? Why?"
At Hoeyeon's question, she almost thought she could see Gayul smiling in the darkness after the light went out.
"While I'm indulging your spoiling, I shall show you a small performance."
Geon had no such thing as a crown prince. Even the reigning Emperor could not know who would inherit the power of Heaven.
"But consider this, Your Highness."
General Cheon spoke before the imperial prince Hyeoneum.
"If every descendant save one were to vanish — would the power not inevitably fall to that one remaining?"
"I wondered what you meant to say after clearing everyone else out…"
Hyeoneum twisted his lips — an expression that could have been a smile or a snarl.
"But how, exactly?"
He had no patience for tiresome roundabout talk. General Cheon nodded.
"From what this humble one has learned, the fox-kin are guarding a certain relic of tremendous power."
"A relic? No — fox-kin, you say… You. Do you know something of the demi-humans?"
"It is one of the things this humble one has uncovered."
"…And what is it you want?"
He had taken him for the common sort — a man who would raise a king and bask in the reflected glory.
But it seemed otherwise.
"This humble one, you ask."
Mmm, General Cheon stroked his beard.
"Has Your Highness never wondered? Why must people die?"
"…What?"
"Of all people in this world, I suspect I have watched more men kill and be killed than anyone… and of late, the question simply will not leave me."
"Hah."
Hyeoneum clicked his tongue.
"So you dream of immortality."
"I do."
General Cheon nodded.
"And so, Your Highness — what will you do?"
The performance Gayul spoke of was light.
Pure white droplets of light gathering into the constellations of the sky.
Fireworks of many colors bursting open.
A river of white light-droplets pouring down.
The three besides Gayul watched without a word, without even the sound of breathing — eyes sparkling.
She painted a few more pictures, and the last thing Gayul drew was a single flowering tree.
Blooming in mad, extravagant profusion — a slow rain of falling petals.
As the final petal drifted down, the performance ended.
"…Gayul."
Hoeyeon said.
"Hm?"
A faint note of unease in Gayul's voice.
"Thank you."
"If you say so, then it was worth the effort."
Gayul laughed softly in the dark — huhuh.
"It was most excellent."
"Y-yeah… it was amazing…"
And until, one by one, they all fell asleep, they murmured together sharing their impressions.