Min-jun had one dagger left and, clearly, it was meant only for the King. To think that his own mind would become such an obstacle to his own schemes. As he made his way through the memories of his training, he recalled a handful of men that he had poisoned or injured before. The first, a lecherous governor from up north, who had tried to get more than he’d paid for. Min-jun sent him on the way to the hospital with a few broken ribs and a bruised face. The second and third had been dealing in apyeom within the walls of the brothel. Poison for poison, Mother had suggested, and a broken hand for good measure. A fourth lecher got blinded, a fifth was hurled out the window. He’d hurt people before. Was killing such a giant leap? Why, in all her thorough planning, had Mother not taught him to kill without this sinking feeling? Why had he been subjected to asking for answers from his parents’ murderer?
“Are you well, your Highness?” Sang asked as she watched him from across the table, a light green ceramic cup in her hands. And there lies the heart of his problem. “Is your arm bothering you?”
“Ah, just a little bit.” Since that night, the pain had grown more painful by the day. And now, Min-jun couldn’t even do anything about it. The crazy shaman had made up his mind and killing him was out of the question after the incident with Gyeo-wool.
Perhaps he should kill the shaman anyway? The mental turmoil was nothing compared to the potential pain of this injury.
“Then, the letter …” She gestured down at the envelope on the table, not willing to cross the line into demanding things from a member of the royal family.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Min-jun mumbled. He picked up the envelope and broke its seal. With two fingers, he slipped the letter out into his hand and unfolded it, the paper thin and delicate under his skin.
‘To Royal Noble Consort Hui,
I am writing to inform you that I am most touched at your proposal for tea. I hope this letter finds you well and that your injury has not caused you much pain. It was never my intention to cause you pain, only to aid your soul in its fight against your sinful body. In our journey towards your recovery from sin, I have decided to accept your invitation. We will meet in the lamb hours on the eighteenth of this month.
With my sincerest respect,
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Sun-woo’
He was going to try his hand at killing Min-jun again. And he expected him to agree? Well, Min-jun had expected the same from him. Perhaps they operated on a more similar wavelength than he’d expected.
Min-jun took a long swig of tea as he purged the thought from his mind. He wasn’t that single-minded.
“Will you accept?” asked Sang.
It would be odd to reject them after all the trouble he went to, but he wouldn’t put himself in danger for the sake of propriety. Revenge, yes. A chance to
He placed the cup down without so much as the clink of porcelain. “I don’t know. I do not wish to be further exorcised, nor do I wish to make him uncomfortable with my, uh, sinful body. For both our sakes, it might be best to part ways.”
“I see.” Sang’s shoulders drooped, as her brown eyes searched for something more to say. “He’ll be … quite disappointed.”
“Let him know that I apologize, and that I hope there will come a day when we can dine together, but …” Min-jun paused. Was it really so impossible to reverse the curse without killing him? Shouldn’t he attempt a peaceful resolution before resorting to murder, involuntary or otherwise? Mother would tell him to stop being sentimental. Was that it? Was he just weak by nature? “I’ll send you an invite some other time. You, of course, are always welcome here, and I’d like you to continue to be our middleman, but let’s take things one step at a time, shall we?”
He hated to say it, but he had to speak to the King, or else these voices would never calm themselves. Surely, the King would be able to help him deal with Sun-woo. Min-jun had never sent a request for attendance with the King before, and the prospect of doing so made his stomach churn. Why should he lower himself and beg to be in that bastard’s presence?
The pain in his arm flared, and he flinched a bit, his other hand coming up to massage it, not that it helped much. To hell with pride. He needed to find a cure, or else he’d end up bed-ridden and addicted to painkillers. Not exactly the best state of mind to kill the King in.
. . .
The King answered his request with haste. Min-jun had expected to wait a good few days. After all, the King was a busy man. How could he find the time to answer a mere consort’s letter? With ease, apparently.
To my esteemed Consort Hui,
I’d be pleased to see you later tonight. Sun will escort you to my quarters when the time comes.
Sincerely,
His Majesty King Yi Cheol
It smelled like peppermint. Peppermint and the sweet scent of those spiced cakes the King loved so much. His writing, on the other hand, was far less pleasant. Barely legible, really. How did he get anything done with script like this? If Min-jun hadn’t been a master at solving puzzles he would’ve been incapable of reading it.
Sun appeared long after the sun had set, and though Min-jun knew the guard had never truly left his side, it felt as if he’d arrived only a few moments ago. When it came to hiding his presence, Sun was truly unmatched.
“I will escort you to his Majesty. You may be accompanied only by your closest staff. Otherwise, it’ll get crowded.” Crowded? Min-jun had seen the King’s quarters from afar. They looked plenty spacious.
“Very well,” he conceded. “Court Lady Jeong-eun, Eunuch Go, Court Lady Chae-won. If you please.”
The servants nodded their heads and took their places behind him. Together, they walked out of the Jangmi Villa. The King’s quarters weren’t far from Min-jun’s, and so it would only take a short walk to arrive. After all, the King should have easy access to his consorts. The Inner Palace was designed to provide him with every comfort.
As they walked, servants cleared the way for them, retreating to the sides of the road as they passed. The King’s quarters was a sprawling complex painted red with a roof of grey slate. The windows had been left open, giving glimpses into the luxurious life of the King. Guards were placed all around the perimeter with a few feet between each pair of guards. No one was willing to take chances with the King’s life.
The guards at the front doors nodded as they approached, stepping aside for them to enter the Hall. Inside, it was pleasantly cool. Pine floors and walls painted cream, it was rather understated, with only the slightest decorative engravings on the ceiling and windows. Elegant yet modest. He hadn’t expected it to be less opulent than Jangmi Villa.
“This way, your Highness,” said Sun. Sun took a left, leading him down a long, tidy corridor. Indeed, it was just as spacious as Min-jun had expected. “There are fourteen suites in the Hall. The King’s bed chambers are in the center of the building.”
They came to a stop in front of a pair of double doors painted red. One of the King’s servants, a small man wearing a blindfold and dressed in green robes, announced their arrival.
“Let him in,” the King replied, his tone casual and light, as if he were receiving an old friend. Two servants opened the doors for Min-jun. As soon as he was safely inside, the doors shut behind him, and the feeling of being caged rose in his gut. He shook the feeling off.
A table had been set out on a raised platform, a screen depicting a riverbank spread out behind it. The King sat at the desk, reading through one of the many scrolls around him. It would appear that he was busy after all.
Min-jun kneeled in front of him. “Your Majesty.” He bowed. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”
It’s all for killing the King… sure 😶
😂 Min-jun, you’re not fooling anyone