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Chapter 22
In the end, Haegon returned to Merchant Jijae’s teahouse. But unlike before, he did not enter so easily.
After watching the place for quite a while from outside, he finally moved once the noisy customers had all left.
“Sorry, but we’re closed for the— h-heek!”
The inn boy shrieked the moment he saw Haegon.
“It’s not like it’s your first time seeing me. Why do you get startled every time? Where’s your master?”
He said it as a joke, but the boy still seemed on the verge of tears as he guided Haegon inside.
Still, perhaps because he’d seen Haegon several times by now, the boy naturally led him to the inner room. Just like before, the hallway to that room was lined with people sprawled out like rotting straw, drunk on the drugged vapors.
“M-master…! You have a visitor.”
Before a reply came from inside, Haegon pushed the door wide open.
Merchant Jijae, who had been counting money, jolted upright and grabbed his coin pouch.
“I’m not here to rob you, so you can relax.”
Haegon stepped inside and sat down opposite him.
“…You acted like you’d never come back.”
“I had something I couldn’t ask that day.”
The merchant grumbled, but truthfully, he was glad Haegon had returned. He waved for the boy to bring tea.
“No tea. I want alcohol.”
“Bring some liquor.”
Soon enough, the boy’s quick hands set up a respectable drinking table. Until then, neither Haegon nor the merchant had said another word—only stared at each other.
“This is from Hwangnak Kingdom, you said.”
“Yes.”
“And you claimed it was something used in the royal palace.”
Again, the merchant nodded.
“But how do you know whether it truly came from the palace?”
Haegon downed the liquor in front of him. The merchant thought in silence for a long time before speaking.
“…I was an eongwan* of Hwangnak Kingdom. A disloyal subject who fled. I was a low-ranking official, so they probably didn’t even care, but I served the king from quite close by.”
(*Eongwan = a court official who advises through words, often like a censor/remonstrance official.)
“‘They’…?”
“The Chancellor and his faction. They command the world now, but that U-Chancellor…!”
Haegon flinched at the word Chancellor.
The merchant’s eyes were red with anger as he tried to suppress his rage. No matter how hated he was by the world, Haegon couldn’t keep listening when he thought of Yeon—he changed the topic.
“You almost lost that hard-earned life of yours to my hands. We’ve met three times, shared drinks, yet we don’t even know each other’s names. What should I call you?”
“The name I used in Hwangnak was Seo Gaepil.”
“And now?”
“Some call me Merchant Seo, some call me Shopkeeper Seo, and some just call me Mr. Seo.”
Seo Gaepil… Haegon quietly repeated the three characters of his name.
“As for me…”
Haegon hesitated. Hiding his identity was second nature—he never shared his real name with anyone he met in the marketplace.
“Chilseong. No surname.”
After hearing that Haegon had won every round of gambling against General Geummu last time, Merchant Seo already assumed the name was fake. But he did not ask again.
“Then, may I ask why you have come back after acting like you would never return?”
Merchant Seo poured liquor into Haegon’s empty cup.
People, when trying to ask something important, always pretend to do something trivial first. Haegon, who knew that well, smirked as he lifted the cup to his lips.
“What is this item used for?”
“…Why are you suddenly curious about that?”
“It belonged to my mother. If it came from the palace, I want to know whether my mother was a court lady, a palace servant… or perhaps even a thief bold enough to steal from the palace.”
“You’ll regret knowing.”
“If there’s regret to be had, I’ll handle it.”
“When you simply walked out last time, I thought it might be for the better. Once you know, you can’t go back to living the life you have now.”
“And what do you know of my life?”
Merchant Seo’s eyes, which had always looked dull, suddenly sparkled.
“Judging by your clothes, they’re neatly matched but the knots and ties are sloppy—seems you live quite freely. Your build and presence are too rough for a merchant… and those shoes are worn by mountain travelers. Are you perhaps a hunter?”
As expected of the greatest wit of Geum Nation—half right and half wrong, but Haegon was quietly impressed.
“Close enough.”
“Do you still wish to know what that item is?”
“I dislike repeating myself.”
Haegon tapped the dagger at his waist. Merchant Seo swallowed hard, hesitated for a long time, then finally spoke.
“That was a decoration attached to the royal imperial seal.”
“The imperial seal…?”
“Yes. The one used by the king of Hwangnak. Usually, imperial seals are made of jade or gold… but Hwangnak was founded by cultivating rough mountain terrain, so since the first king, they used a seal carved from stone.”
Haegon could not hide his shock. Why would his mother ever possess such an item?
“That woman… may not actually be your mother.”
“If she wasn’t my mother, why would she carry an infant across death’s door?”
“On the day Hwangnak fell, there were those tasked with protecting the young prince—not even weaned yet. Entrusted to the hands of guards and several palace maids, but…”
Merchant Seo looked at Haegon as if gazing at something dearly missed. Just like Beokhee’s teasing, he seemed to believe Haegon was the lost prince.
“Ha… Ridiculous.”
Haegon scoffed and began to stand, but Merchant Seo suddenly rushed forward and knelt before him.
“You look so much like the late king. When I first saw you, I thought His Majesty had returned alive—”
“Enough.”
Haegon grabbed him by the collar and lifted him.
“Say one more word and I’ll break your neck with my bare hands.”
“Urgh…”
“I’m not a hunter. I’m a bandit. If you want to stay alive, forget everything we just talked about.”
Haegon shoved him away roughly and walked out.
In that moment, Merchant Seo caught the trembling in Haegon’s hands and the wavering in his eyes. He shouted at Haegon’s retreating back.
“On the night of the Red Moon, all the surviving subjects of Hwangnak will gather!”
The Red Moon was one of Geum Nation’s festivals. During the transition from summer to autumn, when the sun and moon both rose and the sunset dyed the moon red.
While the entire country would be noisy with festivities, somewhere unseen, the subjects of a fallen kingdom planned to gather. A dangerous affair indeed.
Ignoring Merchant Seo’s cry entirely, Haegon walked out. His head spun, a sharp ache blooming behind his eyes.
He wanted to see Yeon.
He already missed that calm, soothing scent.
“Prime Minister, what brings you all the way out here to such a remote place?”
“How can you ask why? I came to find my child. You should be scolding me for coming so late, not asking that.”
General Geummu made eye contact with his subordinate, signaling to remove Yeon from the tent before the Prime Minister entered.
He didn’t care if the woman he’d almost married was someone he’d never even seen—still, he didn’t want to give the Prime Minister an excuse to pick at him for bringing in a strange woman while supposedly searching for his bride.
To buy time, Geummu deliberately said things that didn’t match his usual personality.
“I guess the rumors from the marketplace were all nonsense.”
“What rumors?”
The Prime Minister narrowed his eyes.
Geummu spoke casually.
“The rumors say that General Geummu and the Prime Minister’s three sons are all worthless scoundrels. But seeing you armed like this, your presence and authority seem far from ordinary.”
“I didn’t come here to exchange cheap jokes.”
When Geummu acted frivolous, the Prime Minister responded irritably. Even a high and mighty man like him must be exhausted from climbing such a steep mountain.
Just then, the subordinate who had gone to check the tent rushed back, whispering urgently.
“The woman is gone.”
Geummu’s face hardened for a split second, but he couldn’t show it in front of the Prime Minister.
He gave a small nod.
“The tent was a mess. They’ve just finished cleaning it. Please, come inside.”
“No need. We’ve just set up our own tent.”
“You must be busy, yet…”
Geummu looked suspicious.
But the Prime Minister remained calm as he continued.
“His Majesty has granted permission. Since I don’t know whether my youngest is alive or dead, I came here to deliver the imperial decree.”
The Prime Minister took out a golden scroll—the mark of the Emperor.
Geummu let out a long sigh, knelt, and bowed deeply to receive the decree.
The Prime Minister’s sons smirked at Geummu, mocking him for bowing to an emperor who wasn’t even present.
For someone like Geummu, bowing to anyone—let alone an emperor—felt worse than death.
The decree was read aloud:
“We have heard that you fulfilled the duties of a husband, yet suffered misfortune and lost your wife, leaving you alone in deep sorrow. Our heart aches with yours. Though Heaven tests men, We recognize your loyalty and devotion. We cannot allow you to bear such grief alone.
Thus, We command you—on the day of the Red Moon, come to the imperial palace. When the crimson moon rises in the sky, We shall personally console you. Do not refuse, and obey this decree.
This edict is delivered on behalf of His Majesty.”
Hearing this, Geummu couldn’t shake the feeling that he had knelt not for the Emperor, but for the Prime Minister.
The Emperor was nearly mocking him.
“To fulfill the duties of a husband”—he hadn’t even seen his wife’s face before losing her.
“I accept the decree.”
“Withdraw your troops and leave. I will find my son myself. Even if you leave now, it will be tight to make it back in time for the appointed date.”
“Did His Majesty order that as well?”
“Of course not. But you were nearly to become my son-in-law. Naturally, I am concerned for you.”
“…I accept that order as well.”
With deep displeasure written on his face, Geummu ordered his men to withdraw.
The missing woman faded from memory like smoke.
