Baekjoseon, Year of the Tiger, Nineteenth Winter
"They say ice preserves what fire devours.Perhaps that is why I can still hear the memory of your voice, Jisoo-ah,like a warm breath that refuses to fade — even in death."—Thoughts of King Yi Hwan
Night had fallen over Seohan like a funeral shroud.The lanterns of the Palace of White Ash flickered timidly beneath the icy breath of winter, while the first heavy snow descended in silent spirals, covering rooftops with a veil of pure white.
Inside the king's chamber, time itself seemed suspended. The air smelled of damp wood, medicinal herbs, and the bitter perfume of impending death. Candles burned faintly, their flames bowing as if unwilling to gaze directly upon the man lying between crimson silk sheets.
King Yi Gyeong, sovereign of Baekjoseon, was barely more than a shadow of himself. His once-imposing face had sunk inwards, as if time had carved away his flesh with cruel fingers. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his breath was a faint murmur, growing more distant by the hour — like the echo of a cry fading into the white horizon.
Beside him stood Choi Seung — the oldest eunuch of the Court of Ice — unmoving, head bowed. He did not permit himself even to blink. He had stood at the king's side for years, had witnessed concubines come and go, wars, decrees, betrayals. But never had he seen him so utterly alone.So fragile.
The silence was thick — nearly divine. Even the creaking of the ceiling beams felt like sacrilege.And then, it happened.
The side door — unused since the days of the previous king — opened without a sound. A shadow entered: dressed in absolute black, like a moonless night. The face was veiled by a deep blue cloth mask — no insignia, no mark. It did not walk. It drifted. Not only that, but it was death made flesh, and silence its name.
Yet its presence was enough to alert Choi Seung instantly. He straightened slowly, eyes narrowed. He knew what he ought to do: summon the royal guard, protect his king with his bare hands if need be. But a fleeting glance from the dying monarch halted him.Yi Gyeong, barely conscious, understood what was unfolding. There was no mistake. The one who had come — had come for him.
The assassin approached without haste, as though all had been written long ago. In his hand, a jade sword — curved and ancient, so green it seemed carved from living emerald. Its blade did not reflect light. It was as though it drank life itself merely by being seen.
"Speak it," the stranger rasped, voice deep as earth. "What lies in your heart. That much I can grant you."
Choi Seung held his breath, suppressing every instinct, waiting beside his king.
"I was... a poor father, Choi... and a worse king," Yi Gyeong wheezed through cracked lips. "This is my punishment... for failing to protect Baekjoseon... for hiding behind the ice while my people perished."
The eunuch, tears falling in silence, tried to answer — but the king raised a trembling hand, halting him.
"What I regret most... is not having loved my son enough. My little Yi Hwan..."
Choi Seung parted his lips, desperate to offer one word of solace — but the king slowly turned his gaze to the figure come to end his life. And at that moment, "I knew," the eunuch would later say, "he felt no fear. Only resignation. He saw the assassin more as a saviour than a foe."
There was no hatred in his eyes.
The blade came down.
It was not a swift slash. It was a single, precise thrust.Clean.Deep.Straight to the heart.
The king's body trembled like a branch beneath snowfall. A gasp escaped his lips. Blood flowed like a dark bloom, soaking the silk and staining the bedding as though history itself were unravelling in red.
And then, barely a whisper — no louder than a feather brushing marble — slipped from the king's dying lips:
"There is... no inheritance... without blood..."
His gaze dimmed with his final words, eyes fixed on the ceiling — as if seeking a star that no longer shone.
The assassin said nothing.He took one step back, glanced at the eunuch, then returned his gaze to the corpse.The hilt of the jade sword protruded from the king's chest.
Then, raising a finger to his veiled lips, he vanished — disappearing through a hidden passage in the rear wall, as swiftly and silently as he had arrived.
Choi Seung collapsed to his knees, breathless.The candles flickered.Outside, the snow continued to fall — heedless of the blood just spilled at the heart of the realm.
That very night, a rider departed from the palace's rear stables — cloaked in heavy wool, a sealed missive clenched in one hand. The horse cut through the wind like an arrow, galloping beneath the snowy archway towards the residence of Prince Yi Myeong.
In the distance, no drums had yet been struck.Dawn did not yet know.But the kingdom had just been orphaned.