A little earlier, Gonjo had told me this:
It was Taejo’s ability that granted it consciousness and made it a spirit. The longer it went without contact with someone possessing Taejo’s ability, the more its consciousness faded.
It insisted that the strangeness in my memory wasn’t due to a lapse but because of this.
“The ability vanished over two hundred years ago. You’re saying it stayed intact even without meeting anyone with the ability for that long?”
It didn’t seem to demand anything from me, so “contact” likely meant just being in proximity. In that sense, it was a convenient arrangement. I was curious about the mechanics.
“So, you don’t need food?”
How long do crows usually live? Even the longest-lived ones couldn’t outlive a human.
“Then you’ve already lived a long time, haven’t you? If you’ve been around since Taejo’s era, that’s nearly five hundred years.”
Since Taejo, there have been over twenty kings. Including heirs who died as crown princes without ascending, the number is even higher. All those people were born, lived, and died between Taejo and me. And this creature lived through it all.
To me, that was an unimaginable stretch of time. I couldn’t even fathom how long it was.
Gonjo let out a loud squawk in protest.
“Long-lived?! Long-lived?! How dare you say that! If you must speak of my existence, say it’s magnificent!”
As it flapped its wings, the dust it stirred up drifted toward my meat side dish.
I nearly lost my temper at the thought of dust ruining my meal, but I calmed myself.
“Hey, my food!”
Eating with dust stuck to its feathers?
It didn’t matter. As a former beggar, would I refuse meat just because of a little dust?
When I moved to shoo it, Gonjo grabbed its beak with both wings, trembling.
Oddly, it looked pitiful.
“There’s nothing left in my memory,” it said. “Nothing to recall. Despite living so long, nothing remains in my mind. Over those long years, I spent my time as a mere beast, wasting it away.”
Was this some cunning tactic to tug at my heartstrings?
“You don’t know,” it continued. “You don’t know the pain of your mind clouding, your memories erasing, becoming something other than yourself, losing the ability to think. You’ll never, ever know that torment. How dare you speak of it? Don’t talk about what you haven’t experienced. Such arrogance!”
Gonjo’s voice was almost a whisper now. Thanks to my heightened senses from reducing the Jongmeoki Flower, I could hear it, but its small body made the sound barely audible.
“I was once a mere beast.”
It probably didn’t want to admit that, which is why it spoke so quietly.
In short, if it went too long without contact with someone possessing Taejo’s ability, its consciousness would fade.
“When was that?”
“Before you were born.”
Before the first prince was born?
“When exactly?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you know? It’s not someone else’s story.”
“Living without consciousness, what would I know?”
Gonjo snapped.
“Then one day, my consciousness returned. I had to find the reason. I never, never, never wanted to become a beast again. Finding why my consciousness returned was more important than celebrating it. That way, I wouldn’t lose it again. I was so busy searching for the reason that I only realized I’d lived as a beast after months had passed.”
“Don’t just say it was important. What did you find? Did you find it?”
“I searched for who truly inherited the bloodline of the first king. It took a long time, but I found the reason.”
It was a secretive story no one else would hear. I leaned in closer.
Gonjo flapped its wings rapidly and cried out.
“It was you! Why did it have to be you?!”
Suddenly, it screeched loudly.
I frowned.
“My ears are going to burst.”
This second-rate bird was really getting on my nerves!
“What, you little punk?”
I gave a bitter laugh.
“What’s wrong with me?”
The second prince? Saying he’s better than me is nonsense. The second prince killed his half-brother, turned the capital upside down, and still managed to ruin the kingdom spectacularly. If there were an expert in destroying a nation, he’d be among the top in history.
“You’re just saying that because that tiny bird brain of yours has nothing in it. You’ll see. Even if he was born with this ability and became a proper king, he’d be far worse than me, scraping by with every trick to hold the throne. I’ll show you I’m thousands—tens of thousands—times better than him. Just wait.”
“You’re notorious as a wastrel! How can you say that? You left your ambition outside the palace gates when you went out! A prince of the realm without even a shred of ambition? How pathetic!”
Gonjo sighed deeply. A bird brain sighing? It wasn’t even funny.
“No ambition? How could you? You should at least trade it for some candy. A prince, no less, without even a candy stick’s worth of ambition!”
I shoved rice into my mouth as I spoke.
“Ugh, I’m full.”
Last night, I felt the rice was a bit short, so I told a eunuch to add more. It was delivered perfectly to the table. Just right.
I needed to eat to have strength. I was thinking of starting proper training soon. To use my voice, I had to eat well. That’s the royal way.
But this first prince was a light eater. His scrawny frame proved it. From head to toe, there wasn’t a single impressive thing about him.
So, I finished my meal.
The second prince came to pay respects.
“Grand Prince Jean seeks an audience.”
“Enter.”
Beyond the slightly open door, King Bonhyeon sat with a bored expression, looking in my direction.
“I greet Your Majesty.”
“Sit.”
Was there an invisible wall between us? His cold expression made me wonder what could spark his interest. But imagining King Bonhyeon acting eagerly was impossible. Nothing in the world could make him less indifferent.
“Are you in good health, Your Majesty?”
“Yes.”
The second prince asked reluctantly, “Have you been well, Your Highness?”
“I’ve been fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yes.”
Anyone would think I was here to cause trouble with that attitude. It was as if he’d only show interest if I were invited formally.
King Bonhyeon’s eyes scanned me up and down. As a king, his gaze carried a weight similar to a warrior’s. It made me straighten my back instinctively.
“Good news.”
As expected, his tone was reluctant.
He didn’t look happy at all.
Would he be pleased if I came back battered from somewhere?
Considering he’d later favor the second prince’s faction and appoint their scholars, he didn’t seem to care much for military matters.
Is that why the kingdom fell? He neglected the military for scholars.
King Bonhyeon spoke, staring into the air, his tone not inviting conversation but hinting at curiosity. Was silence the answer he wanted?
“What did you discuss with your maternal family?”
What should I say?
It wasn’t a big deal, but could I say I was recruiting allies to eliminate my half-brother and seize the throne?
No way I’d say that.
“I visited to offer condolences to Generalissimo So.”
“Condolences?”
“Yes.”
King Bonhyeon’s gaze turned back to me.
His eyes, like a warrior’s, demanded I speak truthfully, not lie.
Would I bow to that?
“He seemed to grow frailer by the day, so as his grandson, how could I not be concerned?”
“Is that so?”
King Bonhyeon smirked.
“You, who finds it easier to shirk duties to your father, caring so much for Generalissimo So?”
His slow, distinctive drawl doubled the sarcasm.
Then a voice called from outside.
“Grand Prince Jean seeks an audience.”
King Bonhyeon replied exactly as before.
“Enter.”
The door opened, and the second prince appeared.
“I greet Your Majesty.”
Noticing me late, Yehwi flinched.
I spoke first, as expected.
That’s what happens when you’re a wastrel.
It’s not surprising that being late is my specialty.
“Greetings.”
An awkward air flowed. But I wasn’t the only one who could sense it.
“Your brotherly bond is touching.”
As King Bonhyeon spoke lightly, his brow furrowed slightly.
Good news?
It seemed more like sarcasm.
Why not just say what you mean? You’re the king, aren’t you? Is that allowed?
“Are you in good health, Your Majesty?” Yehwi asked.
As the second prince entered, it felt like an invisible wall rose between him, King Bonhyeon, and me.
I was the odd one out.
“I hear Grand Prince Jean frequents the palace.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Yehwi smiled faintly and bowed, glancing at me with a look that felt like mockery.
Give me a break.
“Though unworthy, I strive to serve the Crown Prince.”
In other words, “You don’t have a mother, do you?” It wasn’t my misunderstanding—those were Yehwi’s true intentions. Not a misinterpretation born of my suspicious gaze.
King Bonhyeon spoke.
“I called you here to ensure you both keep that promise.”