The hot wind from the sea grew thicker by the day. The sun's rays quickly dispelled the morning chill, and heat haze shimmered over the white sand where the tents stood. The smell of lunch being prepared wafted through the camp as commotion stirred outside Song'un Wu's tent. Seo'oh rushed back and forth, and Kyeong'ui was summoned. The murmuring soldiers hastily parted to make way for her, bowing their heads. Kyeong'ui abruptly lifted the flap and entered. Wu, her face pale and drenched in sweat, looked up at her. Seo'oh, who had been attending to her, quickly rose and bowed his head. A blood-soaked cloth lay in a heap beside Wu's bed.
"Your Highness," Wu greeted, struggling to sit up, then abruptly bowed her head. Her neck trembled, barely supporting her head, and her chest heaved with ragged breaths.
Kyeong'ui regretted her impulsive entrance. "I'll return later," she said. "Please tend to yourself first."
Unable to offer proper comfort, she stepped back outside and instructed Hongyoo, "Bring back the physician we assigned to House Myeonghyeon."
"Yes, Your Highness," Hongyoo replied.
Wu had miscarried. As Hongyoo left for Nahmgyo with her order, Kyeong'ui felt as if she were sitting on a bed of thorns. Since the support from Sunyahng arrived, the lights in Wu and Seo'oh's tent were always the last to be extinguished. She had simply assumed they were driven by their own ambition and hadn't interfered, but now disaster had struck. Have I pushed them too hard? Have my expectations and support, intended to empower them, driven Wu to this?
Hongyoo returned from Nahmgyo with the physician late in the afternoon. After sunset, Kyeong'ui summoned Seo'oh. He stood before her, head bowed like a criminal.
"Did you know?" she asked curtly.
"Yes, Your Highness," Seo'oh replied, "I knew."
"Then why didn't you inform me?"
"I didn't hear it directly from her," Seo'oh explained. "I happened to overhear a private conversation between her and her husband when I stayed at their house one night. I couldn't presume to speak of it. It seemed like something she wanted to keep private..."
His hesitant explanation prompted Kyeong'ui to raise her voice. "You should have told me, even in secret! This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't hidden it!"
Seo'oh flinched and bowed even lower. Hongyoo gave her a warning glance, and Kyeong'ui bit her lip, trying to calm herself.
"You may leave," she said.
Seo'oh retreated hastily.
"Though he's around your age, Your Highness," Hongyoo said, "he's still just a student. You are an intimidating figure to him. He wouldn't have dared to come to you first, even if he was worried about Master Song'un."
"I know," Kyeong'ui sighed, running a hand over her face. Regret filled her. If she had known, she would have assigned the physician to Wu instead of House Myeonghyeon. They could have responded more quickly if there had been any signs, and perhaps Wu wouldn't have miscarried under her watch. The King hadn't responded to the secret letter Kyeong'ui sent regarding House Myeonghyeon but had instead sent Wu and Seo'oh. The people he assigned to her had suffered a miscarriage, so has it been right to devote so much attention to House Myeonghyeon, to Ryang? She felt ashamed before both the King and Wu.
"And the physician?" she asked Hongyoo.
"He's attending to her now. Would you like to see her yourself?"
"No, tomorrow morning," Kyeong'ui replied.
"As you wish."
The following morning, Hongyoo informed Wu beforehand and guided Kyeong'ui to her tent. Inside, the physician and a midwife, hastily summoned from Nahmgyo, were attending to Wu. She lay under a thick cotton blanket and tried to rise when she saw Kyeong'ui, but Kyeong'ui stopped her with a gesture. Hongyoo signaled for the others to leave, then excused himself as well. In the quiet tent, with only the occasional crackle of charcoal in the brazier, Kyeong'ui spoke first.
"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"
"I didn't want to trouble you while you were busy..." Wu's voice was hoarse.
"And now you've troubled me with this outcome," Kyeong'ui retorted.
"I apologize," Wu said.
"I didn't ask for an apology."
A long silence followed.
"I'm sorry for not being more attentive," Kyeong'ui finally said.
Wu blinked. Tears welled in her eyes, which usually seemed distant and unfocused. A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and lowered her head.
"I apologize. I'm being emotional..."
"I told you to stop apologizing."
Seeing Wu flustered, Kyeong'ui regretted her harsh words.
"If I had known," she said, "my father wouldn't be so heartless as to send a pregnant woman."
"I know," Wu replied. "If I had told you, you wouldn't have let me come."
"Why did you push yourself to come?" Kyeong'ui asked.
"Because I'm a Scholar," Wu said flatly. "I couldn't miss this opportunity. This isn't the first time. I had my first child when I was twenty. I miscarried before three months. If that child had been born, they would be around your age now. I haven't conceived easily since then, and I've lost every child I carried. It's common in the Sanctuary. This didn't happen because I came here, so there's no need to look at me with such pity."
"Why did you come, Your Highness?" Wu asked.
Kyeong'ui froze. Just as she had before Ryang when he asked why she desired the throne, she couldn't answer. Can I reveal my true intentions to Wu, who came here driven by her passion for knowledge?
"I..." she began, then decided to tell only half the truth. "I also had a thirst for knowledge, like you, but more than that, I wanted to leave Sunyahng. Unlike my brother, the Crown Prince, I've been confined to Yeonghwi Palace since birth. I've snuck out countless times, but I've never been outside Sunyahng. I envied my brother, who travels everywhere with the King to learn about governing. It's certainly more liberating here than within Yeonghwi. I visited many towns and villages on my way here. Even within the same kingdom, the ways of life are vastly different. I realized how vast the world is and how narrow Yeonghwi, Sunyahng, where I was born and raised, is. I met many new people... I doubt I'll have another chance to come this far as I please, so I'm reluctant to return."
Wu's dry lips curved into a small smile. "I understand a little why His Majesty favors you."
"Why?" Kyeong'ui asked.
"They say parents always favor the child who resembles them the most."
"Do I resemble my father?" Kyeong'ui asked, frowning slightly.
"In many ways."
"Have you met him?"
"A few times," Wu replied. "He visits the Sanctuary occasionally for encouragement. Everyone fears him as a cold-blooded man, but the King I saw was a curious person, just like you."
Kyeong'ui couldn't understand why Wu would say such a thing. How can she make such strange remarks after only a few brief encounters with the King during his visits? Judging from her story, Wu was much older than she appeared, but even to Kyeong'ui, she seemed childishly eccentric. Nevertheless, Kyeong'ui preferred Wu, who disregarded etiquette and spoke her mind in cryptic, short sentences, to the shrewd and seasoned officials of the court.
"I'm glad a scholar like you came," Kyeong'ui said. "Please recover quickly. I'll do anything I can to help."
Hongyoo entered.
"Your Highness," he greeted with a short bow, then approached Kyeong'ui and whispered, "Myeonghyeon Ryang has recovered."
Wu, unaware of the situation, raised her eyebrows at Kyeong'ui's subtle change of expression. Kyeong'ui quickly replaced it with a gentle smile and rose from her seat.
"Please rest," she said. "I'll take my leave."
As soon as she stepped out of the tent, she pressed Hongyoo for details.
"Recovered?" she asked. "Has he just woken up, or is he fully healed?"
"I haven't heard the specifics, Your Highness," Hongyoo replied.
Kyeong'ui exhaled in relief. The weight that had been pressing down on her due to the recent misfortunes seemed to melt away.
"Should I have them prepare?" Hongyoo asked.
"Prepare for what?"
"Aren't you going to see him yourself?"
Kyeong'ui stopped herself before she answered. She was unsettled by her own excessive joy at Ryang's recovery. The relief that welled up within her felt strangely shameful. With Wu's miscarriage, it wasn't something to be so happy or relieved about. She erased the smile that had touched her lips and shook her head.
"No," she said. "It's enough that I know he's recovered. Visiting him now would only be a bother. And there's someone here who needs my attention. If necessary, I'll send the physician again tomorrow."
"As you wish," Hongyoo replied.
He gave Kyeong'ui a curious look, wondering why she was suddenly acting indifferent towards House Myeonghyeon after being so attentive, but he didn't press further.
Kyeong'ui kept telling herself this was the right thing to do. Whether he was ill or not, it was proper for House Myeonghyeon to come to her first after his recovery. Isn't that the proper etiquette? For now, it was enough that he had recovered. She pushed aside the thoughts of House Myeonghyeon and Ryang that kept intruding.
Kyeong'ui wasn't the only one burdened by Wu's miscarriage. Although no one blamed Seo'oh, he felt responsible. The thought that things might have been different if he'd been more attentive tormented him day and night. Self-reproach haunted him.
Late that night, Seo'oh spread out a pile of papers he'd copied from the underground archives of the Court Library. On the last night before leaving Sunyahng, he'd frantically copied ancient clay tablets and stone slabs. Copying was more efficient than selecting and transcribing the necessary records by hand, though he hadn't even examined most of what he copied. Clay tablets and stone slabs: that was how they recorded important information before paper was invented. Before paper? Seo'oh couldn't imagine those primitive times. How could they possibly carve and engrave all the knowledge that poured out every day onto clay tablets and stone slabs?
Sleepiness crept up on him as he read through the pages. The archaic language of those times was difficult to decipher, and most of the records were filled with absurd stories about wells overflowing with blood and people turning into stone pillars, offering little of value. He skimmed through the pages, wondering if it was all a waste of time, then spread out the next sheet, weighing it down with a paperweight. His heavy eyelids fluttered over the lines of text.
"On the seventh day of the tenth month of the first year, by royal command, I record the matter of Ji'uigeum(知意金). The king's intention in recording this is to eradicate its violent flames from the world should a king who forsakes the light of Sahngjon ever appear. The Ji'uigeum is a metal that shines like a white pearl..."
Seo'oh's drowsiness vanished.