Chapter Text
Year 932 of the Goryeo calendar.
The setting sun barely pierced the horizon when Sohee arrived at the hidden meeting place. The air was crisp, sharp with the scent of pine and damp earth that mingled in the cool breeze. It was a land that had known the passage of centuries, where the stone foundations of ancient temples and the towering peaks spoke of histories long forgotten.
Sohee pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, trying to ward off the bite of the evening chill that had begun to creep in. His breath misted in the cold air, but the urgency of his mission kept him moving forward.
He dismounted from his horse, the sound of hooves tapping lightly on the path echoing briefly before silence returned to the mountainside.
Sohee’s destination was near.
Hidden away in these mountains, far from the watchful eyes of the public, was a place where only those who had been given the most dangerous tasks came.
The old temple, dilapidated and weathered by the elements, still stood proudly despite how much time had passed—erosion and weathering evident on its full structure.
When Sohee reached the weathered wooden door of the temple, he paused for a moment, his fingers brushing against the cool, rough surface of the wood. A discreet knock—three quick taps—and the door creaked open.
No words were exchanged—no greeting was necessary.
He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him, and was immediately enveloped in the dim, flickering light of a single lantern. The stone walls were rough and ancient, their surface uneven.
The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, a mixture of sandalwood and clove that lingered heavily in the room. The fragrance was meant to mask the musty, decaying scent of the old temple, to cloak the space in a layer of false warmth.
It was a familiar smell to Sohee, one he had come to associate with secrecy and shadow.
Seated at the far end of a low wooden table, illuminated only by the flickering lantern light, was the man who had summoned him. His presence was commanding, though he remained seated in the shadows, his face obscured by the wide brim of his hat. The man’s figure was draped in dark silks, blending with the darkness of the room, as though he were a part of the shadows themselves.
There was a stillness to him that felt almost unnatural, a quiet power that seemed to hum beneath the surface of his movements. The silence between them was thick, heavy, charged with unspoken tension. The man didn’t speak immediately, but the weight of his gaze was palpable, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat, yet Sohee could feel them on him nonetheless.
“You’ve done well so far,” the man’s voice finally broke the silence, gravelly and low, like stones grinding together. His tone was devoid of warmth, each word measured and deliberate, “But now, we require your loyalty for a far more important mission.”
Sohee stood rigid, his posture betraying no emotion. His eyes briefly flicked to the table, where a sealed scroll sat waiting, its tie a simple knot of twine. The seal was nothing elaborate, just a practical mark designed to ensure discretion.
But even the simplicity of the scroll held a certain weight —his past missions would usually just start with an exchange but now… this felt entirely different.
Sohee’s pulse quickened slightly as he took it in.
Without a word, he extended his hand and took the scroll. The knot was easily undone, and the parchment unfolded in his hands. But he didn’t open it immediately, instead allowing his mind to race with the possibilities.
What had he been chosen for this time?
The missions had grown more perilous with each passing task, each one pulling him deeper into the shadows of the kingdom, further away from the light of the life he had once known.
Every success, every completed task, had brought him closer to his ultimate goal: the reclamation of his family’s honor . At least, that’s what they had promised.
But with every mission, the cost seemed to rise, the toll on his soul growing heavier with each passing day.
“This will be your final task,” the man continued, his voice cutting through Sohee’s thoughts, “Complete it, and your family’s name will be cleared. Fail and you will share their fate.”
The reminder of his parents’ downfall stung like a fresh wound. The memories of his once-proud family, their noble status, their titles, the lands they had owned—all of it was gone now. Reduced to nothing but dirt.
The royal court had branded them traitors, their name dragged through the mud, their very existence erased from history.
Sohee had spent the years since then clawing his way through the shadows, trying to regain what had been stolen from them. The promise of redemption had been his only driving force, the only thing that had kept him moving forward through the darkness.
His fingers tightened around the scroll as he finally untied the twine and unfolded the parchment. His eyes scanned the paper quickly, each character sinking into his chest with the weight of its implications.
Target: Prince Wonbin.
Sohee’s gaze lingered on the name.
He had expected a high-profile target—perhaps a minister or a military commander, someone whose death would create ripples of change in the court.
But the prince ? The second son of the royal family who had unexpectedly become the heir to the throne? The weight of the assignment settled heavily on his chest.
“Why him?” Sohee asked, his voice steady, but the unease was evident in the way his gaze never wavered from the scroll.
The man’s lips curled into a thin smile, one that held no warmth, “The monarchy is a decaying structure, and the prince represents its continuity. His death will send shockwaves throughout the kingdom, destabilizing the palace and creating the perfect opportunity for change.”
Sohee’s jaw clenched as the man’s words echoed in his mind. He had heard about this before—the talk of revolution, the call to dismantle the corrupt monarchy that crushed the common people underfoot. He had believed it once, back when he had first been pulled into this world of shadows and deceit.
But now… now that he had seen the faces behind the words, now that he had walked the path he had been set upon, Sohee wasn’t so sure.
The line between right and wrong had become blurred, and the mission before him felt more like a trap than a righteous cause.
“And… why me?” he pressed on, his voice quieter, though his resolve remained firm.
“Because you blend in. You understand the aristocracy. You’re loyal, calculative. And most important of all, you don’t let emotions cloud your judgment. ”
Sohee remained silent, his gaze fixed on the man across from him. His heart felt heavy, burdened with the weight of the past, the promises of redemption, and the unbearable choice that lay ahead.
He had spent years in the shadows, but now, standing on the precipice of his final task, he wasn’t sure which way the darkness would take him.
His silence was already enough of an answer which the man in the shadows understood.
The journey to the capital stretched on for days, each stretch of the road steeped in the echoes of history.
The landscape around Sohee seemed timeless, as if the very earth had absorbed the stories of countless generations. The rhythmic clatter of his horse's hooves echoed against the ancient stone bridges that arched over winding rivers, their smooth surfaces worn by centuries of travel.
Every step he took was a reminder of the dynasties that had come before, their once-grand empires now reduced to shadows in the tidesrecords of time.
Stone pagodas stood like sentinels along the way, their curved roofs reaching toward the heavens as if they sought to touch the gods themselves. The farmers he passed worked their fields with synchronized precision, their hands moving in harmony with the earth.
As the days passed, Sohee rode through lush valleys and over windswept plains. The scenery changed with each mile, from dense forests to open fields, but there was always the constant hum of history, the feeling that he was tracing the very footsteps of those who had shaped the kingdom’s past.
At night, he would rest in roadside inns tucked away in random villages, where the stories of the kingdom’s past were passed around like cherished treasures. Over bowls of warm cheongju , villagers and travelers alike would speak of legendary generals who had defended the land from invaders, of scholars who had brought enlightenment to the masses, and of kings who had ruled with either wisdom or cruelty.
Each story was another piece of the kingdom’s rich tapestry, a history as complex and multifaceted as the land itself.
But amidst these tales, Sohee couldn’t help but reflect on his own mission.
His thoughts were consumed by the prince, the target he had been assigned to eliminate. He replayed the mission over and over, dissecting each piece of information he’d gathered about the prince. The reports were conflicting to say the least.
Some spoke of the prince as reserved , burdened by the sudden responsibility of becoming the heir to the throne after his older brother’s untimely death. They described him as soft , too kind for the cruel world of palace politics.
Others, however, painted a different picture.
They claimed the prince was little more than a puppet, easily manipulated by those who held the strings of power in the royal court. Sohee had heard it all—some said he was a symbol of hope, others said he was merely a tool to further the ambitions of others.
But the reports didn’t tell the whole story. The truth was often more complicated than simple labels.
Some guards had claimed that the prince spent hours in the company of palace servants, listening to their grievances and offering comfort in times of trouble. Others said he roamed the royal gardens alone at night, lost in thought, gazing up at the stars as if seeking answers that were always just out of reach.
There were stories of his compassion, of a prince who cared deeply for his people but who was also weighed down by the heavy burden of his position.
And yet, despite his efforts to reach out, he was said to carry a deep loneliness, a solitude that seemed to be an inherent part of his royal existence.
“Seems like... he’s a victim of the same system as I am,” Sohee muttered to himself as he passed through a small village.
The divide between the nobility and the common folk was stark, an abyss that generations of kings had widened with each passing year. The peasants toiled endlessly, while those in the palace lived lives of luxury and power.
It was a kingdom built on a foundation of inequality, and Sohee had long since come to understand that no one was truly free from the system’s grasp—neither the peasant in the field nor the prince on the throne.
By the time Sohee reached the capital, the towering city walls loomed before him, their imposing structure a testament to the strength and endurance of the kingdom. The walls were adorned with banners bearing the royal crest, symbols of the monarchy’s power and influence.
As he approached the gates, which were reinforced with iron and intricately decorated with carvings of mythical beasts and symbols of the dynasty, Sohee couldn’t help but feel the weight of the city’s history pressing down on him.
Inside the capital, the streets were full of life.
Merchants hawked their wares at every corner, their voices rising above the din of the crowd. Monks chanted prayers at roadside shrines, their words rising like smoke to the heavens. Nobles paraded through the streets on horseback, their fine clothes gleaming in the sun as they looked down on the common folk from their high perches.
Sohee’s presence was barely noticed as he slipped through the crowds, his eyes taking in the sights and sounds of the capital with a sense of detached observance.
Disguised as a royal guard, Sohee made his way to the palace through a carefully orchestrated plan.
He carried forged papers bearing the royal seal, documents procured through the underground networks that thrived in the shadows of the capital with the help of the faction he was part of.
His fabricated backstory was meticulously crafted: a son of an aristocrat from a distant province, recommended for service by a minor noble who had no real connections to the court. It was a story that would hold up under scrutiny, and Sohee had learned long ago that the key to survival in the world of espionage was attention to detail.
When he arrived at the palace, he got off his horse and let the steward tend to it. The steward, though wary, couldn’t refute the legitimacy of Sohee’s credentials.
After a thorough inspection, the steward waved him through with a terse comment, “You’re a quiet one,” he observed, his eyes narrowing as he handed back the papers, “Good. The palace already has too many mouths running loose as it is,” and with a dismissive gesture, the steward assigned Sohee to the outer guard rotation.
Another key so Sohee kept his head bowed, his expressions neutral, and his steps measured.
In the palace, where every glance and gesture could be scrutinized, it was vital to remain invisible, to avoid drawing attention to oneself at all costs. A single misstep could mean death, and Sohee had no intention of becoming a casualty of the palace’s deadly politics.
He had a mission to complete, and failure was not an option.
As he walked through the palace grounds, his gaze wandered, taking in the grandeur around him. The tiled rooftops shimmered under the late afternoon sun, and the scent of freshly bloomed flowers wafted from the gardens. Servants moved with quiet efficiency, their heads bowed, while courtiers whispered behind fans, their silk robes rustling with every step.
And then he saw the prince—he hadn’t expected to run into him this early in his mission, let alone find him out in the open like this.
The prince was dressed in deep azure hanbok , embroidered with golden cranes in a flight. His hair was worn half-up, the top portion neatly gathered and fastened with a slender hairpin, while the rest cascaded freely down his back. The way he carried himself, the grace in his movements… it all hinted at royalty.
His posture was flawless, his every movement exuding an effortless grace, the kind that only someone of royal blood coud carry with such ease.
The prince stood in the royal gardens, bathed in the soft light of the setting sun. Plum blossoms drifted on the breeze, their delicate petals falling like whispers of fleeting moments.
Now Sohee was even more confused than he already was.
He had imagined a prince hardened by the cruel politics of the royal court, someone whose heart would be just as cold as the stone walls of the palace.
But instead, what he saw before him was something entirely different—there was a quiet grace to him, a gentleness that seemed at odds with the harsh word of court politics. And for a moment there… Sohee found himself lingering. Watching .
The prince knelt beside a servant, a frail old man who tended to the pale yellow chrysanthemums that lined the edges of the garden. Wonbin’s hands, delicate yet firm, moved with practiced care as he assisted the man. His eyes were filled with an unspoken kindness, his face relaxed as if he was free from the weight of expectations.
For a fleeting moment, his serene expression was illuminated by the sun’s fading light, casting a soft glow on his features. The curve of his cheek, the slight furrow of his brow, all of it seemed to freeze in time.
He looked so… beautiful . So human . So different from the image Sohee had procured of him in his mind.
Sohee shook his head, as if trying to clear the foreign thoughts that suddenly clouded his mind.
‘You were chosen because you don’t let emotions cloud your judgment, Lee Sohee.‘
He quickly averted his gaze, feeling a strange discomfort settle in his stomach. This was not the time for such thoughts, no room for emotions in his mission.
This mission was everything to him. His family and their honor, his own life too— everything was at stake.
As Sohee turned away, the whisper of doubt that had started to form at the edges of his resolve seemed to grow louder. He had known from the moment he arrived that his task was clear: to kill the prince , to erase the royal threat that loomed over his faction.
But standing there, watching the prince in the garden looking so solemn and graceful, he felt something shift deep within him. A crack had formed and he couldn’t afford to let it grow.
That night, as the palace fell into a quiet hush, Sohee sat by the window of his assigned quarters. The world seemed so distant, so separate from the turmoil he felt within. The weight of the mission pressed heavily on his shoulders once again, the cold reality of it seeping into his bones.
Yet, he pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the task ahead. Tomorrow, he would begin his training as a guard, taking another step deeper into the role he had been tasked to portray.
No time for distractions, no time for weaknesses.
And he certainly wouldn’t think about how the prince looked so… pretty in the garden. Sohee was too tired for such thoughts—too tired to be distracted by the fleeting image of a man who was nothing more than an obstacle.
Sohee leaned back against the cold stone wall, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the rest of the world.
The mission was all that mattered. It had to be.