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I realized that things had begun to go wrong when I learned that Silla had burned the Template. It was a cunning and calculated choice, made with the foresight that Goguryeo—a weaker nation—might rise by using the most powerful mineral as a pretext to strike.
Once I understood that, I staked everything on occupying the Han River basin. If the gods granted their favor, there was much to be gained. Until the very moment I drove the occupation standard into the ground, I believed it was the right choice.
The King of Baekje demanded that I surrender the final right of occupation over the Han River. In a situation where a few swings of a blade could kill everyone present, was there truly any need for cleverness? The moment her gaze sank, I sensed it instinctively—that if I did not turn Silla into an enemy now, the blade of Baekje might one day turn toward Goguryeo instead.
Deliberately, I brought up the insult Silla had dealt me and questioned the very existence of the Template, trying to divert her attention. But the King of Baekje did not waver. In the end, I had no choice but to return to Goguryeo empty-handed.
When Goguryeo’s occupation ended, all three kingdoms gathered at the Han River. The moment the King of Baekje realized this would be the final occupation, she aimed her sword at me, who still held the standard. Behind my back stood my people. Before me stood a longtime ally who no longer trusted me.
Yield the right of occupation to Baekje.
Clenching my trembling hand, I asked her what she could promise in return. She said she would split Silla’s ships apart. How could I possibly trust Baekje? I could not stake Goguryeo’s fate on something as thin as trust.
The King of Baekje sighed once at the sight of my anxiety and placed a vial of poison in my hand. If she failed to keep her promise, she told me, I should use it to kill her.
Kneeling on one knee, I handed the occupation standard to the King of Baekje. From the heavens, pillars of fire poured down toward the Han River—fire unleashed by Silla. Without hesitation, Baekje accepted my surrender. Goguryeo’s red banner burned without a trace, and at the center of the Han River, Baekje’s bright yellow flag rose in its place.
Even as I watched that sight, I had no choice but to return to Goguryeo.
Please, Your Majesty, do not make yourself the subordinate because of us.
The moment I returned to the main palace, my adjutant said this to me. She and the others seemed unable to understand a sovereign who had cast aside everything we had built. Murmurs of loyalty filled the hall—voices declaring they would risk their lives to fight.
But I could not allow it. It was a reckless war. I could not push my people into a gamble I could not guarantee winning.
I forbid it. I will not let Goguryeo be the first to fall. The words I forced out settled into silence. —I have not abandoned Goguryeo. The excuse I added crumbled like mist.
*
In the place where I had always spent time with the King of Baekje, she stood as she always had. Sensing my approach, she turned her head. For a moment, I saw superimposed upon her figure in the moonlight the same King who had aimed her sword at me by the Han River.
You have made me into a truly cruel person, I murmured.
She stepped closer.
You must be wondering whether Silla spoke the truth—whether Baekje will one day strike Goguryeo. Or whether this outcome will drive your people to their deaths.
Hearing her speak so calmly, what do you think crossed my mind? I resented the ease of someone born upon fertile land. More than that, it felt as though my heart were being torn apart by the knowledge that we could no longer look in the same direction. I would be looking at her back, and she would always stand one step ahead of me.
I’ll trust you. You are a good ruler.
Bearing the misery of being destined to remain the subordinate forever, I lied again. She smiled, trying earnestly to reassure me. I smiled as well. I had no other choice.
My life, as I prepared for war, was reduced once. It happened just after the Bi-sang was lifted. The King of Baekje insisted it must surely be Silla’s doing, but I knew better. The woman I knew would have written my name into the Bi-sang without hesitation. The moment I received her letter, I realized my suspicion had been correct. She had never been good at lying.
It must be Baekje, Your Majesty, my adjutant said—she who knew the King of Baekje almost as well as I did. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, as though she had spent the night thinking.
It will be fine.
The uncertain words slipped from my lips.
Just in case… if I die, I want you to inherit the throne.
I told her this on our way to the battlefield. Our lives were dwindling, one by one, nearing their end. She remained silent for a long time before saying, Please do not say such things.
Her face was crumpled like paper, and I found myself smiling.
Everywhere I try to run, you are there. You leave me no path of escape.
I turned away. In the distance, I saw Silla’s soldiers drawing their bows toward us.
The war ended in undeniable victory. Silla collapsed miserably beneath the blades of Baekje, led by their King at the forefront. By the time I left the rear to join the battlefield in support of Baekje, everything was already over.
The blood-soaked King of Baekje seized my wrist. Around us lay the traces of burned corpses. Beside someone whose bones had not even remained was a crushed flower I had once given.
I understood at once.
The King of Baekje wrapped her arm around my frozen shoulders and whispered that though she had avenged Goguryeo’s grudge, she had not been able to prevent my adjutant’s death. To prevent future trouble, nothing could be left behind—she had been forced to burn the body.
Are you all right? I asked deliberately.
I am,she replied.
Nausea rose within me.
After expressing my gratitude to the King of Baekje, I returned to Goguryeo. Nothing had changed. Yet in my eyes, flames still poured from the sky.
The seat closest to my throne—the place where my adjutant once stood—remained exactly as it had when she departed for war. Only then did I remove the crown soaked in the scent of blood and allow myself to weep for a long time.
*
How powerless I was.
Kneeling before her empty place, I thought endlessly. As always, there was no second chance for me. The one who had killed my adjutant had already died by the King of Baekje’s command. I could neither witness her death nor avenge her myself. The knowledge that my actions—taken in the name of preserving Goguryeo’s honor—had led her to her death tormented me.
She had often joked that she wished someone would kill her one day. And in the end, she died holding the meaningless flower I had given her—dying in my stead.
I was too young. Too immature. Too weak a ruler.
It suddenly occurred to me—what if the King of Baekje had not written my name into Bi-sang? If he had trusted me completely and not erased my life, would I have grown a little more reckless? Might I, perhaps, have at least recovered my adjutant’s body?
I managed to make contact with a priest of Silla.
Her body was covered in fresh wounds, and she said—recklessly—that she intended to fight Baekje with the remaining people and die with them.
In her eyes, filled with hatred toward me, I somehow saw my own adjutant overlapping with her. And I found myself thinking: if I was the King of Silla, would I truly wish for this girl to die fighting Baekje?
In that moment, I became unbearably disgusted with myself. I—the very cause of all this—had survived stubbornly, trampling over countless innocent lives.
Only then did my thoughts begin to settle.
There was only one path left for me.
I will take my own life, I told the priest of Silla. I will support you in achieving victory, and then I will die. So please—protect what remains of Goguryeo’s people.
I handed her my bow and armor.
She looked at me for a long moment before replying, I fight in such misery, and you would burden me even with your revenge? You are truly a Incompetent ruler.
A laugh escaped me.
Incompetent—what word could possibly describe me more perfectly than that?
Yes. I am an incompetent ruler. Weak and fearful, I failed to protect anything, and only led everything to ruin.
I will not offer excuses. Do not forgive me. I will die selfish to the end. You—become a hero and live.
Then she left.
I set out at once for Baekje.
The land of Baekje, where the haze of war had yet to lift, was utterly devastated—and so was its ruler. The King of Baekje was collapsing before my eyes, a sight I had never seen before.
My retainer is dead.
Shee muttered the words in a voice split and ragged, sounding nothing like the king I once knew. I reached out and placed my hand against the cheek of her bowed head. Quietly, she continued.
I want peace. I do not wish to wage war any longer. I once thought of killing you and then taking my own life—but I realized that would not be the right way.
Standing before her, I steadied my breathing in silence.
Then let us marry. Let us unite our nations through marriage and ensure there will be no more war.
The lie flowed smoothly from my lips, and the King of Baekje looked more than a little startled by my words.
She asked whether I had not once feared her, and what would become of my lieutenant. Standing before her, I labored desperately to clothe the bare bones of my falsehood with convincing flesh.
As we spoke of an uncertain promise—that I would come to see her again after my adjutant’s funeral—a dull ache throbbed in one corner of my chest.
She smiled often as she considered the marriage.
Seeing that smile, I thought to myself that I had committed yet another sin.
Only after gathering the two survivors of Silla and a single citizen of Baekje—one who had grown disillusioned with the Baekje king—to form a resistance did I return to Goguryeo.Now, only two of my people remained, and they trusted me without question. It seems Baekje is about to invade Goguryeo. So gather your belongings and hide on the lowest level of Sinhyeol. I will build graves for the dead and return. No matter what happens to me, you must not leave that place. If anything goes wrong, I will sound the horn.
They said they understood.
I pushed them into Sinhyeol, sealed the entrance, and with my back turned to them, began to write my farewell letter.
The hand that held the brush trembled mercilessly, and my breath came short. At the whispers behind me—the hushed, frightened voices—I felt tears well up in my eyes.
Leaving behind the only letter that held the truth, I made my way to the burial ground.I placed the flower my adjutant had clutched in death upon the grave. I tried to offer my final words, but my throat tightened so fiercely that I could barely speak. Instead of saying all that I had prepared in my heart, I managed to force out only a single plea—
That you, at least, would not resent me.
I stepped onto the tiled roof of the main palace and walked toward the edge.
The sun was just beginning to rise. Pillars of fire engulfed the Han River, and beyond them lay Baekje—a land I had visited countless times. As I looked upon them one by one, a vague but overwhelming fear took hold of me. I had never imagined that a moment more terrifying than any battlefield—where arrows could pierce my back and blades could bury themselves in my heart—would come like this.
A thought suddenly crossed my mind.
What if I had been just a little older—just a little more mature as a ruler?
What if my people and I had been able to live upon better land?
One hazy thought led to another, each clinging to my ankles and refusing to let go. I was not ignorant of the foolishness of my choice. Had the King of Baekje—or the King of Silla—stood where I now stood, they would surely have turned back and found another path forward.
And yet, I wanted to believe that my choice was the best one.
For I had lived my entire life driven to the edge of a cliff.
When I blew the horn, its solemn sound resonated and spread far into the distance. It was a signal—for the people of Goguryeo, for the two Sillans heading toward Baekje, for the lone Baekje citizen preparing rebellion within.
I could delay no longer.
I looked once at the sky, squeezed my eyes shut, and whispered—
Glory to Goguryeo.