Chapter 1
The sky is deep, and on this breathless night, perhaps I should make a confession.
I was always afraid to open my eyes again once I closed them.
Was that faint shimmer inside my eyelids light—or yet another illusion?
Was the place I stood “today,” or was it another “yesterday”?
I could never be certain. I did not know what to chase, nor what to flee.
So yes, let me make a secret confession.
When I am with you, I do not distinguish between light and illusion, nor do I separate today from yesterday.
Even if I am not myself, if you are the one calling my name…
Here and now, I dare to swear: I cherish you more than the honor I have guarded as my very life.
Ilip opened his eyes and raised his small hand into the air, waving it about.
It was the chubby, soft hand of a child. When he turned his gaze, the sliding door was firmly shut.
Even as a child, the blood of royalty was strong within him. He neither cried nor fussed but simply sat still, staring blankly beyond the door.
On that deep night, with a faint moon in the sky, the pattering of bare feet running and the muffled voices exchanging heavy words carried faintly through the air.
On nights like this, he dared not add his own childish voice, so he kept his lips sealed.
He was quietly watching, as usual, when suddenly the sliding door burst open.
“Your Highness, the Crown Prince! Something terrible has happened!”
“You fool! How dare you fling open the door in such a manner here of all places!”
Even at the head lady-in-waiting’s harsh rebuke, the court maid did not retreat. She pressed her forehead to the floor and reported urgently.
Ilip rubbed his sleepy eyes and moved languidly, but the maid lifted her pale face with desperation.
“Bo-okdang, Bo-okdang is ablaze…!”
Bo-okdang (Hall of Precious Jade).
It was the residence of his mother, Lady Heebin, its plaque bestowed by the king himself.
The instant the words left the maid’s lips, Ilip didn’t wait for the rest. Barefoot, he leapt down from the stone porch.
The head lady-in-waiting hurried after him, clutching his tiny leather shoes against her chest, but by then his tender feet were already cut and scraped by earth and stone.
The sky, layered with night and the faint veil of dawn, was dim, yet even without the lanterns borne by eunuchs, Ilip’s eyes were clear.
It was an ominous sign. From afar, the sky above Bo-okdang in the west glowed crimson with flames.
“Mother! Mother!”
Before the young boy could even catch his breath, the great beam of Bo-okdang collapsed into the maw of the fire.
Eunuchs and maids stood in line, passing buckets of water forward, but it was nowhere near enough.
Worse, where water splashed, black smoke rose and sparks leapt outward, spreading the fire further.
In the blistering summer heat, enough to fell cattle in an hour, Ilip’s young face flushed as he stood before the inferno.
The red sparks reflected on his childish features looked merciless and cruel, unsoftened even by tears.
“Ryeohee! Mother!”
Perhaps it was his desperate cry that carried into the flames.
For at that moment, the plaque of Bo-okdang finally gave way and collapsed into ashes.
The young maids shrieked in terror and tried to flee, but the head ladies seized them by their collars and forced them back into line, buckets still in hand. Sweat drenched every face.
“Your Highness! Please step back from the fire!”
The head lady, having caught up at last, wiped the little leather shoes with her sleeve and set them before his feet.
His young face was already streaked with tears and ash. Where the tears cut through the soot, deep marks were left behind.
“My mother, she is still inside! Ryeohee must be inside as well…!”
But did he have the courage to run into that fire?
The boy asked himself—but could not answer.
Mesmerized, as if entranced by the dancing flames, he took one step, then another toward Bo-okdang.
Ash soon stained his white robe. White was so easily, so pitifully, defiled.
“Your Highness! The guards have gone inside! If you wait, Her Ladyship Heebin will surely be brought out safely!”
Ilip turned his tear-stained face sharply toward her.
“Is that true?”
“Of course! How could I ever lie to Your Highness?”
“Oh, dear…” she murmured as she fussed over wiping his soiled cheeks.
Just then—
“The Princess is coming out!”
The crowd stirred near the now signless Bo-okdang.
A dark figure staggered through the sparks, carrying a small girl on his back. Before Ilip could ask if it were a ghost, the shadow gently set the girl on the ground.
“Su-o!”
The boy in black martial robes lifted his head. Ilip gasped—for the skin around his eyes was burned and grotesquely twisted.
“Oh heavens…”
The head lady trailed off in sorrow. Su-o was a handsome youth, barely sixteen at most.
But he cared nothing for his wounds. Instead, he took a cloth soaked in water from a eunuch and pressed it carefully to the princess Ryeohee’s lips.
Every breath held in tension hovered over her pale face.
At last, her small red lips moved, drawing moisture from the cloth. Only then did the eunuchs sigh in relief, and Su-o exhale shakily.
“My mother—she is still inside?”
“Your Highness… Lady Heebin…”
Su-o bowed deeply, as though unable to meet his prince’s gaze.
“She pushed me, carrying the princess, out of Bo-okdang. And then…”
His knees gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, crawling slowly toward Ilip.
Ilip only stared blankly at the burning hall, unable to grasp Su-o’s words.
Clinging to the boy prince, Su-o sobbed wretchedly.
“Then my… my mother…!”
When Ilip pushed him away and stepped once more toward Bo-okdang, the eunuchs who had gone inside came flooding out in terror.
The eaves collapsed, the rafters caved in. One eunuch, too slow, was crushed beneath a pillar, his screams piercing the night.
The stench of burning flesh filled the air. The shrieks of terrified maids rose all around.
Mother…
Ilip could not even voice the word, only groaned in despair.
Surely she too was consumed in that fire, turned to ash in agony, gasping for breath until even that was gone.
Ilip collapsed backward, sobbing, his small fists pounding the ground.
The earth, wet with his tears, dried quickly beneath the heat of drifting sparks.
Red-stained clouds gathered overhead, yet the flames had already devoured all that could burn, reaching skyward.
Even when the rooster crowed, no dawn broke. As Ilip stared blankly at the blackened ruins, raindrops began to fall on his cheeks.
“H… haha…”
The boy laughed bitterly.
No—already his face was no longer that of a child. Who could still call him young? His eyes were blackened with grief, his lips twisted in fury.
The belated downpour only deepened the futility, washing over ruins where nothing remained whole.
Ilip saw something charred being carried out, and he fainted.
“Your Highness! The Crown Prince has collapsed!”
Above, the sky was a faded gray. Cold raindrops fell indifferently into his eyes, rippling the darkness within.
Like in his childhood, he raised a hand to shield the sky. Between his fingers, the storm clouds pressed coldly against his skin.
Mother…
His hand closed on nothing but air.
“Mother!”
Ilip called again for the one he could no longer call.
Now, his grown hands bore countless scars and hardened calluses from wielding the sword.
