Chapter 39. When the western dawn breaks tomorrow morning
“Is the fox too good at acting like this?”
Seo Hyo thought as she placed firewood into the hearth.
Her mother was desperately trying to deceive the Heavenly Emperor’s envoys, the fox was playing along perfectly, and the envoys—though uneasy—were being deceived for now.
Was everything unfolding like that?
“No way.”
There were limits to how long one could deceive others. No matter how much her mother, Lady Mujo, pretended otherwise, there was no way she hadn’t realized something had gone wrong.
It had already been ten days since she had been kidnapped to Mangwol.
Was it even possible that no one knew?
Did that mean she had no choice but to risk everything and escape Mangwol to seek help?
“But escaping itself is impossible…”
Mangwol, where humans and gods coexisted, was under Chan-eon’s absolute control. Humans did not even know gods existed—they simply believed they lived in a noisy palace where night felt more alive than day.
However, there was one undeniable truth: everyone bowed their heads before Chan-eon, the master of the palace.
No one in Mangwol dared defy his will.
Even if she somehow managed to leave the palace, there was no guarantee she could safely reach the gates.
“I’m trapped.”
That was the conclusion. Simple and clear.
Seo Hyo was trapped in Mangwol Palace. And no one was coming to rescue her.
“Ah!”
She dropped the firewood. A sting shot through her right finger. She must have pushed her hand too deep into the hearth and burned herself.
A red swelling quickly rose—blisters were about to form.
As she blew on her finger to soothe the pain, the head maid called for her.
She was told to go to the main hall.
“My heart feels like it’s shrinking…”
Every step down the long corridor filled her with fear. Before she even reached Chan-eon, she felt her whole body shrinking like an insect.
No—she wished she really were an insect.
Then he wouldn’t see her. He wouldn’t hate her.
“Just come in.”
As she was about to kneel upon entering the hall, Chan-eon spoke.
Would he make her crawl all over again if she did?
He glanced at her hesitating figure.
“I said come in.”
Being told the same thing three times was not ideal. Seo Hyo quickly walked forward to the raised platform.
There was a long silence.
During that time, Chan-eon stared intently at a small box. From where Seo Hyo stood below, she couldn’t see its contents.
Then he suddenly asked:
“Do I look like I’m trying to seize the Heavenly Emperor’s throne?”
Yes or no—both answers felt dangerous. She couldn’t refuse to answer either.
Leaning lazily on his armrest, he spoke again.
“Do I really look like I want that position?”
“…No.”
She forced out the word.
On the second day—the day he told her a bitter truth—he had already said it. That he had absolutely no desire to become the Heavenly Emperor.
Maybe he had changed since then, but she answered based on what she knew.
Saying nothing would be worse.
Was that… the right choice?
“Right. Of course. Why does everyone else not understand something even a fool like you knows?”
Chan-eon rubbed his eyes, sighing—weariness leaking out. It was the first time she had seen him like this since arriving in Mangwol.
“I don’t want something like that. Tell that well-born old man to rule forever if he wants. All he talks about is balance. A guy below the Heavenly Emperor with too much power—he doesn’t like that. Why not just say it plainly?”
He shifted his legs.
“It’s not just today. It’s always been like this.”
A faint bitterness colored his smile.
“Ever since I was young, the old man said the power I was given was too great, but my nature wasn’t gentle enough. That I would easily fall into evil.”
He tapped his knee with long fingers.
“Did he know that saying made me worse?”
His eyes narrowed.
“I am not evil. I am not lacking. No matter how I tried to prove it, to the elders and that old man, I was always ‘insufficient.’ And all they ever said was righteousness, righteousness.”
His gaze landed on Seo Hyo. She instinctively shrank further.
“Do you know who Jeongmyeong is?”
“Yes.”
“Oh?”
“He is… your younger brother.”
“Correct. My younger brother.”
Chan-eon nodded with a cold smile.
“Jeongmyeong of Dongbaek, the one who treats his disgraceful older brother with perfect courtesy.”
Dongbaek was a region far to the east, opposite Mangwol in the northwest, near the sea.
“He likes people like you.”
Seo Hyo stayed silent.
“Small, weak, foolish people like you. He is very generous to them.”
But the one standing before her was Chan-eon. And it was obvious—he did not like his brother.
Seo Hyo tried to make herself smaller.
Then Chan-eon tilted his head slightly.
“You’re injured?”
“…Pardon?”
“Your finger. You’ve been looking at it the whole time. It’s red.”
“Oh… I just didn’t know where to look. I’m sorry.”
“Come here.”
She climbed the platform with trembling steps.
When he told her to show her hand, she forced herself not to shake.
“Burned?”
“Yes…”
He examined the injury like something unfamiliar. Then he raised his hand.
Was he going to hit her? Pull her? Push her away? Do something else entirely?
But instead, he gently placed his hand over hers.
“…It won’t work.”
“What… won’t?”
“Healing. Jeongmyeong would have healed something like this instantly.”
Chan-eon extended his hand outward.
Dark blue energy spread—and in the distance, two massive bronze cauldrons outside the hall exploded into pieces.
They were large enough for several people to fit inside.
Now they were unrecognizable rubble.
“Something like that is all I can do.”
He smiled bitterly.
Seo Hyo’s eyes landed on the box again—the one he had been staring at earlier. Inside were items she never expected.
“Ah, this?”
Chan-eon noticed her gaze and took something out.
A hairpin tip adorned with jade shimmered beautifully.
“You… didn’t throw it away?”
Her mother had likely placed it there in case it needed to be sold for money. But when Seo Hyo saw it, she had felt something else entirely.
It was meant as a future bride’s token for Chan-eon.
She had given it to him on the second day as a keepsake.
She never imagined things would become like this.
“Throw it away? Why would I?”
“I thought… you would hate me enough to throw even my gift away.”
“Just because I dislike you doesn’t mean I’d throw it away. This is… actually quite to my taste.”
Then he revealed something else in the box.
“A pearl hairpin!”
Seo Hyo gasped softly.
“That was in the bundle. I thought it burned.”
“I took it out.”
Chan-eon frowned slightly.
“Strange. Why did I bother saving this?”
He stood, lost in thought. Seo Hyo instinctively stepped back.
“Your mother gave it to you?”
“Yes.”
“Like this…?”
He moved behind her and gently placed the pearl hairpin into her hair.
It was the first time they had been this close—close enough to feel each other’s breath.
“It suits you.”
Then he whispered:
“Will you help me?”
He looked straight at her.
“Tell my father to cancel this marriage. Tell him I don’t want to be bound—I just want freedom.”
“That…”
“He no longer listens to me. He shut his eyes and ears to me long ago. Now he’s trying to control me through a forced marriage.”
Chan-eon gritted his teeth.
“He never did this to my other siblings. Only me.”
For a moment, something real flickered in his eyes—pain and resentment.
Seo Hyo flinched at the words “forced marriage.”
So he truly hated this marriage. For him, it was punishment from his father.
Her chest ached at the realization.
Because she had not been able to let go of her feelings.
Even when she told herself not to get hurt, she couldn’t stop.
Her feelings for Chan-eon had built up over a year.
Her first love.
Even if everything had started wrong, he had taken her heart completely.
But it would never work.
Sadly.
Why would he ever like me?
“Seo Hyo.”
He grabbed her shoulders lightly, forcing her gaze upward.
“Will you tell my father to cancel this marriage?”
Her voice weakened.
“I don’t know if he’ll listen to me…”
“Then beg him.”
“I… I’m not very…”
He sighed. The pearl hairpin was pulled out again.
He sat down, holding his forehead.
“Hey.”
A servant came quickly at his call.
Chan-eon tossed the hairpin.
It flew thirty paces and landed at the servant’s knee.
“Is that man still there?”
“The man, you say?”
“The one wandering in front of the palace. The one with one blind eye.”
“Ah… the beggar?”
“Give it to him.”
Seo Hyo’s eyes shook.
The pearl hairpin her mother had given her—now given to a beggar.
But it had survived. It hadn’t burned.
Yet even that relief didn’t last.
Chan-eon turned to her.
“You should beg properly. Say you’re scared. Say you’d rather die than marry me. That kind of thing.”
Tears rolled down Seo Hyo’s cheeks.
“Do I really have to teach you everything?”
She was left with nothing but her clothes.
That night
There’s not a single place that doesn’t hurt…
She did laundry alone past midnight again. As she left the washing area, massaging her shoulders, dizziness washed over her and she leaned against a wall.
“Did I not eat enough…”
At home she had eaten three meals and snacks. Now she barely survived on two bowls of porridge a day while working nonstop.
“I want fruit…”
She murmured softly.
“Hot meat soup steaming with heat…”
The memory of her mother’s cooking made her mouth water. Tears almost came.
Did her mother even know her daughter was here, trapped like a slave?
Stay positive. Just think positive.
Don’t cry. It’ll make noise.
Then—
A strange sound.
“Ugh… urk!”
Seo Hyo froze.
She had left her wooden laundry tool behind. It would have given her some comfort.
But going back might be dangerous.
What if she made noise and provoked whoever was there?
Better to escape quietly.
But then—
The sound came again.
“…Damn it… ugh!”
“That voice…”
It was Chan-eon.
“…Who’s there!”
She froze completely.
She had been discovered. There was no escape.
With stiff legs, she walked toward the sound.
“Ha… it was you.”
Chan-eon leaned against a tree, wiping blood from his mouth.
Blood.
Even in the dim moonlight, it was unmistakable.
The wind carried the metallic scent.
“Yesterday and today… you’ve seen me in rather unsightly states.”
He wiped again.
“I should be honest—it was intentional yesterday.”
He looked pale. Weaker than usual.
“Are you alright?”
“Too alright, unfortunately.”
He leaned against the tree.
“My body can’t fully handle its power. I’ve been suppressing it. Otherwise, landslides and floods would have occurred somewhere in the past year.”
In other words—if he released his power, the world itself could collapse.
Seo Hyo trembled.
And she realized why the Heavenly Emperor feared him.
Both father and son were right.
And neither would yield.
If I think this is tragic… am I like a rabbit worrying about a tiger?
“Damn old man…”
Chan-eon sighed, leaning back.
“Don’t you resent him?”
He looked at her.
“I am cruel to you. And he deceived you for a year knowing everything—letting someone impersonate me to trap you with sweet words.”
He straightened.
“Why did he think this marriage would restore balance?”
Seo Hyo couldn’t answer.
“He thinks I lack power but you are full of pity. Opposites. Put them together, and I would become whole through you.”
He laughed coldly.
“What nonsense.”
His eyes were the same as before—wounded.
“So what now? Shall we just marry?”
Seo Hyo inhaled sharply.
“Live a year or two, then separate when it becomes unbearable.”
His words kept flowing.
“Or maybe, against all odds, I’ll change and we’ll live happily ever after.”
He looked straight at her.
“You wouldn’t refuse.”
His voice softened.
“Because you still like me.”
Her lips trembled.
She couldn’t deny it.
It was painfully true.
Despite everything, she couldn’t let go.
“Seo Hyo.”
He grabbed her shoulders again.
“Tell him to cancel it.”
She whispered weakly:
“I don’t know if I can…”
“Then beg.”
“I… I can’t…”
Chan-eon exhaled sharply.
Then he spoke.
Words that would never leave her memory.
“Tell him this.”
His voice turned cold and absolute.
“When mountains wear down to dust, when rivers run dry, when thunder strikes in winter and snow falls in summer…”
“…Ah…”
“Tomorrow morning, when the western dawn breaks.”
He looked directly at her.
“Only then will I consider this marriage.”
