Chapter Text
A thick blanket of smoke loomed over the campside like a harbinger of death, and the sound of gunshots rang in my ears.
My comrades were running away from the source of the gunfire, but I could not join them. My body was paralyzed with pain, and I could not move.
‘Lady Ae-shin…’
One of my comrades was cradling me to her chest, tears in her eyes. There were fresh bloodstains on her shirt. I realised that they were mine.
‘I’m not going to make it, Soo-mi,’ I managed a weak smile. She looked down and held me closer, her body wracked with sobs. She knew I was right. I had taken three bullets to the chest, and there was not enough time for an emergency treatment.
‘Go and make sure the others are safe,’ I said quietly. Leave, and continue our legacy, I didn’t have the heart to say.
We had already lost so many comrades.
She watched me for a few more moments, eyes downcast and haunted. Then she carefully laid me on the ground. I will never forget her expression as she left.
A look filled with both despair and hope. It was as familiar to me as the moment a young butcher boy shattered my illusion of the world to pieces.
I let my eyes wander to the blue, glassy sky as her footsteps receded. The sound of gunfire and panicked shouts gradually faded into a low hum.
A blackbird flew past my vision. The sight brought back a memory of a first meeting between two kindred souls, under the gaze of a hundred American streetlights.
I smiled and closed my eyes.
I will be joining him soon.
—
When I came to, my first thought was that this wasn’t the afterlife I envisioned.
When I was young, Grandfather had often told me stories about rebirth and reincarnation.
He told me a tale about a fish who persevered to its last breath and was reborn as a dragon, of a man whose benevolence and wisdom allowed him to ascend to the heavens.
He also told me that those who reincarnate will usually have no memories of their past lives. I found that a tragic relief.
If I was reborn again, I would not want to remember the smell of gunpowder with every step, nor the sight of my comrades falling to their deaths.
I would not want to remember the face of a friend who was tortured and beaten to death, a mercenary who took his last coin from my palm, and a lover who sacrificed himself before my eyes.
And yet, their faces are still fresh in my mind as I lay awake and stared numbly at the ceiling.
Why am I not dead yet?
The air no longer smelled of gunpowder and smoke, but the room looked different from the one I used back at the main camp.
In fact, this room looked achingly familiar, from the wooden paintings on the sliding partitions, to the small bedside table next to me.
And then I turned my head and saw Ms Haman peering back at me, and I positively flinched back in shock.
‘M-my lady, sorry if I scared you. Are you alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost!'
Her words were ironic, but I could find no humour in them. I must be dreaming. Hallucinating. Or perhaps this was the afterlife that Grandfather was talking about. The stories do mention that you see glimpses of your loved ones before you die.
And yet, the ghost of Ms Haman was still staring quizzically at me, no matter how many times I blinked or willed her visage to go away. Her expression only creased further into a frown when I tried waving her apparition away in desperation.
‘Aigo. My lady, don’t scare me like that. Are you feeling unwell?’ Ms Haman tentatively placed a palm against my forehead to check my temperature. Warm. She's impossibly warm and real and alive.
What kind of a nightmare is this?
‘You don’t seem to have a fever,’ Ms Haman mumbles, perplexed. ‘Highstrung from inscribing too much Confucian text, maybe. Anyway, you should get dressed - Gunner Jang is arriving soon for your training.'
My head was swirling with too many questions, but not wanting to appear suspicious, I managed a stiff nod. Ms Haman left me alone to get changed, and I took the opportunity to collect my bearings.
I pried off my nightclothes and looked for the gunshot wounds on my chest. The phantom pain still lingered, but there was no scar or medical incision in sight. My skin was completely unblemished, and it’s as though the incident has never happened.
As though the incident has never happened, I repeated with a frown. Ms Haman is alive. My training lessons with Master are still ongoing. On top of that, I'm back in the Go Residence, healthy and in one piece.
Swallowing down my apprehension, I pulled up my bedside mirror.
Even though I was already expecting a surprise, I was still stunned to see a younger version of myself peering back, missing the dark circles I have developed from too many sleepless nights. Even the deep scar on my left cheek was gone, a close shave from one of my recent missions.
I spent the next few minutes staring in shock at my reflection in the mirror, until Ms Haman's call from outside snapped me out of my trance.
Time was ticking, and even if this was all just a horrendously lifelike dream, I couldn’t keep her and Master waiting.
I wouldn't.
I unfolded my silk hanbok and began to get dressed. The nostalgia of doing so was hard to ignore as I slipped on each piece, though my perception of wearing silk has greatly changed in recent years.
The silk hanboks I owned were too impractical to wear for a resistance fighter, so I had sold them in exchange for food rations and weapons for my comrades.
I have grown used to wearing westerner suits and sniper uniforms - textures that were thicker and more practical for travel.
Now, the silk hanbok clung to my body in a way that made me feel exposed. Easy to cut through, and difficult to run in. Wearing it no longer provided me with comfort, but rather a foreboding sense of fear.
I had to remind myself that it was a necessary disguise, and I was no longer a fully fledged resistance fighter on the run.
Not yet.
I let that thought linger as I fastened the ribbon on my hanbok and stepped outside.
—
When I first heard about Master’s death, I could not sleep for days on end. He was like a father to me, and he didn’t even leave behind a full body for me to bury. He burned as brightly as I envisioned, but it was also too heart-wrenching to bear.
Seeing him again brought back too many memories, both joyful and painful. My vision unconsciously blurred every time he called me out on my mistakes, and it was a wonder I managed to shoot seven out of the ten bowls in the shooting range.
‘Your grip seems unsteadier today,’ Master observed from his seat, ‘Clear your mind. You don’t want your nerves getting in the way of your mission tomorrow.’
At the mention of a mission, my heart lurched in my chest. I did not see that coming.
‘I know,’ I lied, feigning nonchalance. I had to find out what this mission was about, lest I would be in deep trouble tomorrow. If there was truly a tomorrow, considering I had allegedly died just yesterday.
‘So, what’s on your mind? Want to get it off your chest?’
Relieved that he offered to talk about it, I considered my reply. Lying to Master has always been a difficult endeavor, as he seemed to see right through me, no matter how convincing I appeared. He says it was in my expression - a wooden shift in my eyes, a twitch above my brow. It was why I played it safe, and kept my back to him as I spoke.
‘I think I’m a bit nervous about tomorrow. Can we go over what I have to do again? It’ll help to ease my nerves.’
Thankfully, Master was in the mood to humour me.
‘No problem,’ Master replied patiently, ‘Tomorrow night, Logan Taylor will be at the topmost lounge in Hwawollu. One of our spies will give you a clear line of sight by sliding open the window. Your mission is to assassinate him from the adjoining rooftop. The streetlamps will switch on shortly after, giving you cover to escape. Proceed to the apothecary and get changed, and Ms Haman and Mr Haengrang will be waiting for you outside the streets to escort you back home.’
I nodded, surprised at my own composure, as all the puzzle pieces from this morning fitted into place. ‘Thank you, Master.’
‘Reload your rifle and prepare for another round of practice. Make sure you get all ten bowls down today, or I’ll make you run the mountain tracks again.'
Master was as unforgiving in his teachings as always, and I couldn't suppress a smile as I reloaded my rifle.
—
As I lay awake in bed that night, the revelation of what Master had said helped me to fill in the missing puzzle piece.
I had, through mysterious means, ended up six years in the past, one day before Logan Taylor’s assassination. One day before meeting Eugene.
I didn't know how or why I ended up so far back in time, to a decidedly predetermined day.
Perhaps Grandfather was right, and the afterlife did exist.
All I knew was that I had a decision to make, and as devastating as it may be, it was what I would have done if I was given a second chance to make amends.
I have to let Eugene go.
I did not blink back my tears or stop them from falling. I did not stifle the sobs that wracked my body as I made the final verdict myself.
If I had another chance at this life, I would not have met him. I wanted him to return to America, and live a long life with a partner who will love him unconditionally.
It was perhaps a cruel choice to make, but I wanted to be selfish.
I wanted to die in a mission knowing that Eugene was safe and well, far away from Joseon.
That was enough for me.
With that in mind, I spent the night rewiring a plan for tomorrow's mission. Eugene will be the only sniper at the scene, while I will remain safely hidden near Hwawollu until I hear his gunshot. I will then enter the apothecary, change into my hanbok, and head straight home with my servants without being sighted.
It sounded like a straightforward plan, but I had to be wary of potential setbacks. I was tempting fate by changing the past, and I didn't know what sort of impact it would make down the line.
I only hoped that it was a step towards a happy ending instead of a sad one.
That thought was enough to strengthen my resolve as I drifted off to sleep, assured of my plan tomorrow.
—
The night of Logan Taylor's assassination has arrived. I changed into my black sniper clothes in the apothecary and headed towards Hwawollu, where I found a well-hidden spot and stationed myself there.
Time ticked by. It was quiet, save for the muffled chatter from within the geisha house and the frantic beating of my heart. I was nervous, and I couldn't help feeling restless as I waited.
What if Eugene never shoots Logan Taylor? What if Logan Taylor decided to meet with Lee Se-Hun in a different location instead? So many things could go awry from changing the past, and I was still unsure if this timeline coincided with the one from my memory.
Nevertheless, I also knew that being paranoid would lead to more complications.
I may not be able to predict what this future holds in store for Joseon, but I had already made up my mind to see it through and bear the consequences.
Above all, I did not regret my decision to let Eugene go.
A gunshot rang in the distance, and I couldn't suppress a small smile. I swiftly made my way back towards the apothecary, taking care to stick to the shadows and move as soundlessly as I could. Mrs Lee, the Righteous Army’s medic, was already waiting for me inside. She was a life saviour who had helped to dress my injuries on one too many occasions, and I was grateful to see her alive and well again.
'How did it go, Lady Ae-shin?'
‘The mission was a success,’ I replied with a smile. It was truer in more ways than one.
After I got changed into my silk hanbok, I headed out to the back of the main street, where Ms Haman and Mr Haengrang were waiting for me with my palanquin in tow.
‘Aigo, look at all these streetlights. It’s scary what technology can do nowadays,' Ms Haman commented, making small talk. 'Since we’re already here, would you like to take a look around, Lady Ae-shin? It's a once in a lifetime opportunity.'
‘There’s no need,’ I replied, ‘Let’s head home immediately. It’s unwise to be seen by so many people.’
Mr Haengrang elbowed Ms Haman and shot her an incredulous look, while Ms Haman placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows, challenging him.
I couldn’t help but snicker at their antics as I climbed into the palanquin. Some things never change.
As I reached to close the window, my eyes landed on a familiar figure in a black suit, walking across the streets alone. A train passed by, shielding him from my sights. He was gone in the next moment.
My eyes stung as I slid the window closed.
—
The next day, Gwan-soo did not visit my residence to bring me in for an investigation. I was relieved that my plan had gone off without a hitch, but I couldn’t help feeling despondent and listless throughout the day.
Ms Haman read me like an open book, which was why she continuously pestered me to go outside for some sight-seeing. Her enthusiasm was fierce and unwavering, and I had no choice but to crawl out of bed and do as she requested.
The streets were packed with people, and the morning air was crisp and refreshing. Ms Haman and Mr Haengrang were bickering about something again, and I was content to sit back and listen to them argue about the most amusing things.
Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a train passing by. They had to set down the palanquin and wait for it to leave.
‘That big piece of metal carriage sure clatters loudly,’ Mr Haengrang retorted.
‘I know,’ Ms Haman snickered back. ‘From what I hear, rickshaw drivers lost many customers to it. And because of the gobstoppers sold at Jingogae, taffy vendors are going out of business.’
My eyes lit up at the mention of candies, and the red-and-white gobstopper I tasted at the French Bakery all those years ago flashed across my mind. It was despairingly sweet and impossible to chew. How anyone could finish eating a single gobstopper was beyond me.
I needed it now.
I called out to Ms Haman, and she turned to address me.
‘Turn the palanquin around. Since you mentioned it, I’d like to go to Jingogae for some gobstoppers.’
Ms Haman seemed ecstatic at the prospect, and she directed the carriers in the direction of the French Bakery.