Prologue
The Royal Investigation Bureau officials stormed into the village before the hour of Shin (between 3–5 PM) had even fully arrived.
With terrifying force, they barged into each house and began ransacking without offering a single explanation. Already worn blankets and clothes were torn apart like fallen leaves by their rough hands and flung into the yard.
As bedding ripped open, yellowed cotton spilled out and rolled across the dirty ground, yet not a single person dared to speak. They simply crouched in corners, watching in silence.
“Did you find it?”
A Bureau officer with a longsword at his waist asked. The soldiers only shook their heads. No matter how much they searched, there was nothing but meager belongings and dust. Still, even these might soon be taken away.
The soldiers could almost see the tragedy about to befall these people. Though hesitant, they did not slow their hands. If they displeased their superiors, they would meet the same fate as the villagers. That could not happen—they too had families.
Everyone shut their eyes and sealed their lips.
By evening, the wind began to blow. Descending along the mountain ridge, it curled through the alleys with a mournful sound. The villagers tightly shut their paper doors and hid beneath their blankets.
“Hear this! By royal command! If the traitor Grand Prince Je-an is not handed over by the hour of Hae (9–11 PM), every man in this village will be executed. No distinction will be made between old or young, nor by status.”
“Why would you search for the Grand Prince here? How could someone of such rank come all the way to this remote place?”
The one who stepped forward to shout was Hwang Yun-seok, a former minister under the late king.
As soon as he spoke, the Bureau officer approached as if he had been waiting.
Though he did not draw his sword, the presence of an armed man looming close and speaking with a hardened face was threatening enough.
“Well said. We were told to pay special attention to your residence, sir.”
But nothing was found in his house.
“What nonsense is this? Why would the Grand Prince come to my home? This is slander!”
“This may be part of the capital, but it’s a remote place. Who would bother framing a man like you? I simply follow orders—best not to complain.”
He smirked mockingly at the elderly scholar. That upright, righteous gaze of his seemed almost pitiful.
A man about to die, yet still pretending to be noble.
With a shove to Hwang’s chest, the old man stumbled back and collapsed helplessly.
“Y-you scoundrel! From what family do you come, to act with such insolence!”
Ignoring him, the officer, Kwon Seok-cheol, continued his work. He was not doing this to earn praise. His goal was simply to survive day by day and perhaps catch the eye of a powerful family.
Dust rose around the fallen Hwang Yun-seok. A young girl—likely a member of the household—ran out and helped him up. Bold child. She glared fiercely at Seok-cheol, unafraid of the sword at his side.
A crooked smile spread across his lips.
“You’re a girl, so your life may be spared. But what a pity—His Majesty has ordered all noble men killed, and all women to be sent into slavery. Perhaps I’ll see if I can take you as a servant in my household.”
In this village, the Hwang family was the only notable noble household. The king’s command might as well have been directed at them alone.
Seok-cheol grabbed the girl’s face, turning it side to side.
She was quite pretty. With time, she would become beautiful. Raising a noble girl as a servant and later taking her as a concubine—now that could be interesting.
Especially if she was the very girl once betrothed to Grand Prince Je-an.
Let’s see… how long until she grows?
As he calculated, Hwang Yun-seok suddenly seized Seok-cheol’s wrist and yanked it away from the girl’s face with surprising strength.
The motion left a small scratch on her cheek. Though it must have hurt, she did not cry—she only glared at him.
“Oh dear, you’ve scarred such a lovely face. And that face may be all you have left to rely on—better take care of it.”
He clicked his tongue as if in pity.
“Y-you wretch! How dare you speak so to a child! Cough—cough!”
Hwang broke into a fit of coughing before he could finish. Seeing this, Seok-cheol stepped back in annoyance, covering his mouth with cloth.
The old man looked like he would die soon anyway—yet Seok-cheol still had to stain his own hands with blood. It irritated him.
“The hour of Hae. You have until then to hand over the Grand Prince.”
“Grand Prince? We told you—we don’t know! Cough, cough!”
Ignoring him, Seok-cheol turned and left toward the village outskirts where soldiers stood encircling the area.
Surely not…
The villagers thought.
No matter how cruel the king might be, would he truly kill newborns? Or elderly people who were already near death?
Even if they didn’t know the law, surely such a thing could not exist.
And yet, they barred their fragile gates and fastened their doors. The eerie wind howled through the alleys.
When the hour of Hae arrived, darkness swallowed the village.
It was already surrounded.
Those who dared peek outside recoiled at the sight of shadowy figures encircling the village and the clanking of metal. Quiet sobs escaped here and there, sometimes erupting into panicked screams.
A flaming arrow streaking toward the roof of Hwang Yun-seok’s house was the signal.
Soldiers charged down from the surrounding hills, shouting.
They carried out their orders exactly as promised. Every man was dragged out and slaughtered.
Blood flowed through the alleys, forming small streams. The village filled with screams like hell itself.
Hwang Yun-seok’s house was burning.
The servants’ quarters had already collapsed, and flames spread through the wooden beams of the main residence. Servants ran frantically trying to put out the fire.
Watching from outside, Seok-cheol entered through the gate. He cut down a servant who happened to pass by and surveyed the scene.
Silence fell instantly.
The burning roof lit the courtyard like a massive torch. The wife of the man he had killed clutched her husband and screamed.
“You beast! What did my husband do wrong? Oh heavens! Someone help!”
Her cries were futile. Most of the villagers were suffering the same fate.
Screams echoed. Houses burned.
There’s no need to burn everything…
Seok-cheol frowned at the flames. If his subordinates caused unnecessary trouble, he would bear the blame.
“You bastard! Just because you’re noble! Give me back my husband!”
The woman struck his chest. Before anyone could stop her, Seok-cheol shoved her aside and cut her down without hesitation.
“Royal command! Did you not hear? You worthless fools!”
His eyes gleamed with madness.
“If you had handed over the Grand Prince, none of this would have happened!”
He kicked open the main hall door.
Inside, Hwang Yun-seok sat calmly at a desk. Beside him knelt his son.
Unlike earlier, Hwang said nothing—only stared.
It drained Seok-cheol’s energy instead.
“If only you had—”
“Enough nonsense. You know better than anyone he isn’t here.”
Seok-cheol let out an awkward laugh.
“Who framed me? If I must die, why not just kill me? Why drag innocent people into this?”
“You’re dying anyway. What does it matter?”
“To die without knowing… is too unjust. Not just for me. Do you not hear the screams outside?”
Hwang’s heavy gaze pressed down on him.
Seok-cheol knew he could end it with a single swing.
But somehow, he couldn’t.
Perhaps a tiny fragment of conscience still stirred within him.
“Miss, we must go now. The master risked everything to make this chance—if we lose it…”
Sam-deuk kept glancing back anxiously as he urged Iseo.
But she did not move, pressing her ear against the door.
“Miss!”
He was desperate.
Before the soldiers arrived, Hwang Yun-seok had called him and entrusted him with his daughter-in-law and grandchildren. He had even bowed, gripping Sam-deuk’s hands, begging him to take them far away.
Sam-deuk had sworn to get them out safely.
Yet the usually obedient young lady was causing trouble.
She refused to leave, insisting on listening through the crack in the door—though she wouldn’t even understand what was being said.
At this rate, if the hidden tunnel were discovered—
It would be the end.
