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Chapter 3
“The secret method I know… is merely one that makes the dead appear as though they are alive. Nothing more. No one can truly bring the dead back to life.”
“That alone will suffice. Can you explain the method in detail?”
At last, the forbidden technique she had hesitated to speak of was revealed. Yet its contents were more shocking than expected, and the air in the chamber seemed to freeze.
Lee Ham and Jeong Hak-yeon barely dared to breathe, their eyes fixed upon Soheon’s lips as they awaited her next words. Calculation and tension flickered in their unsteady gazes.
To them, she was no longer a physician who saved lives—but a means to accomplish a vast political aim.
That chilling realization cooled her heart.
Her fear faded.
She inhaled deeply. The cold air seemed to seep into her lungs. Calmly, she summoned the memory of the method—and her thoughts drifted back to long ago, to a remote mountain village in Gangwon Province.
A sunny day beneath fresh green leaves, on the wooden porch of their thatched house. Her grandfather had looked at young Soheon with an unusually grave expression. His face, more lined than usual, bore a sorrow that could not be erased.
“Soheon. I am going to teach you an important secret method. But what I tell you now must never be used carelessly.”
His voice had been solemn, stripped of its usual warmth. Deep guilt and anguish rested in his eyes, as though he had guarded this secret for many years.
“This method deceives death for a time. It is not a medical art that saves the living.”
“Grandfather… if it does not save lives, why does such a method exist?”
The young girl had tilted her head in confusion.
Her grandfather stared silently out the window for a long time. The setting sun beyond the mountains cast a crimson glow that made his white hair seem even whiter.
A heavy sigh escaped him, laden with pain deeper than simple weariness.
“There may come a time when, to save life, one must deceive death. But remember this, Soheon. A method that deceives death is never a true art of healing. It defies the natural order.”
Pain had flickered deep within his eyes.
“Did you… have to deceive death too, Grandfather?”
“At that time… there was no other choice. It was an era when people struggled merely to survive.”
“Then why teach it to me?”
“Because one day you will become someone who saves lives. And perhaps, to protect true life, a lie may be necessary. Do you understand?”
That day, he taught her the essential elements: which herbs to combine, which acupoints to pierce and how deeply, and above all—when to stop.
His hands trembled as he demonstrated, yet his movements were precise.
“This method must never exceed seven days. If prolonged… the corpse will exist neither alive nor dead. The body, though the soul has departed, will move as if alive. It may walk without awareness, its eyes hollow, its flesh cold. A living corpse… a saengsi.”
The word saengsi—living corpse—had burned into her memory.
Pushing aside the shadow of that memory, Soheon spoke in a low but steady voice.
“With certain herbs and acupuncture together… it may be concealed for three or four days. However, forbidden ingredients are required. If the order is wrong, or the mixture mistaken… it may become a saengsi.”
She deliberately shortened the duration to lessen the risk.
But Lee Ham tilted his head slightly.
“The duration is seven days. Camphor, clove, and snow-lotus… are those not required?”
“Your Highness—how do you know that?!”
Her heart jolted violently.
She had believed she alone knew the method. Yet his certainty suggested otherwise.
If he already knew of it, why summon her? To test her? Or was she merely a piece in a larger design?
“We shall speak of that later,” he said quietly.
Jeong Hak-yeon stepped forward.
“Is ten days impossible?”
“It must never exceed seven. It is dangerous.”
“But the envoy will remain nearly ten days. If we endure that long, we may claim His Majesty’s illness worsened gradually afterward. Joseon will be spared.”
“Even if the full duration cannot be sustained, seven days would suffice for audiences. But I still do not know if using this method is right.”
Though firm, her warning seemed to fall upon ears concerned only with duration.
In Jeong’s eyes, she saw the cold resolve of a politician—one who believed small sacrifices could be borne for a greater cause. Even if that sacrifice was herself. Even if it was the dead King.
“Medical Lady Yun,” Lee Ham said softly, stepping closer and taking her hand. His palm was cold, yet his grip warm and resolute. “Only you can save Joseon now. If you turn away, we may all fall. Please… do not turn from this greater cause.”
His touch unsettled her.
He meant to use her—yet he also seemed to wish to protect her. In his gaze was not only ambition, but grief, responsibility… even apology.
She looked down at their joined hands.
The weight of a nation rested in that hand.
She could not cast it aside.
It felt like both an inescapable command and her destiny.
The turmoil within her swelled into a great vortex. She felt herself being drawn into it, resistance draining away.
At last, she exhaled slowly. Her eyes lingered on the silver acupuncture case.
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, there was no more wavering.
Only resolve.
There was no turning back now.
“…I will do it.”
