A horn sounded, its notes weaving through the air as King Bonhyeon approached. All the vassals bowed, leaving only the king to gaze straight ahead.
Ascending the steps to the dais, King Bonhyeon took his place with his usual air of indifference, as if everything bored him. His gaze briefly met mine before sliding away.
Was it my imagination? No, our eyes had locked.
As King Bonhyeon settled into his throne, the birthday banquet began in earnest.
“Pardon the sins of the guilty today,” the proclamation began.
It spoke of absolving sinners and inviting vassals to revel. The lengthy speech dragged on until, finally, something worth watching emerged.
The banquet attendees approached King Bonhyeon one by one. It was a stark contrast to the earlier rush toward Queen Wu—less a personal greeting, more a formal ritual of the banquet.
The first to pay respects were foreign envoys who had traveled far.
“From Suseo Kingdom…” one began.
“On behalf of Toheung…”
“The king of Geumra congratulates Your Majesty’s birthday.”
Empty pleasantries were exchanged—promises of never forgetting goodwill, met with equally hollow responses.
Throughout, King Bonhyeon wore a bored expression. I, too, wanted to ruin this event, a sentiment we seemed to share.
Next, a woman in red and black approached, her eyes sharp with intent. Among the envoys from the five major kingdoms, excluding our own, only Hwawi’s had yet to speak.
“Nanya-gong, envoy of Hwawi, congratulates His Majesty of Mokryeo on your birthday,” she declared.
King Bonhyeon’s eyebrow twitched.
Long ago, Hwawi declared itself an empire, looking down on neighboring kingdoms. Below an emperor were kings; below kings, dukes and marquises. This implied that other kingdoms were beneath Hwawi.
Yet no one dared proclaim themselves emperor to rival Hwawi. Since that era, Hwawi’s power had surpassed other nations, a dominance that held until now.
Indeed, until the moment I died as Baekyeon, it held true. Even after my death, Hwawi likely maintained its supremacy.
My teeth ground together. Thinking of Hwawi, which brought down Hyeolyunseong, made my blood boil. It simmered, reducing to a bitter residue of vengeance.
If not for them, if only they hadn’t existed—I’d replayed that futile what-if thousands of times. Knowing it was pointless, I’d still begged to rewind time, crazed with desperation. A fire seemed to burn in my chest.
It wasn’t the fault of a kingdom’s fall.
I simply couldn’t forget our lord of Hyeolyunseong.
Even without vowing to Taejo’s spirit to take my life if the kingdom wasn’t saved, I’d have let Hwawi devour Hyeolyunseong long ago. It wasn’t what our lord would want, but it might have saved his life and his family’s.
My throat burned with old memories.
Still, Mokryeo hadn’t yet bowed to Hwawi. For now, the difference was merely in titles and hierarchy, nothing a warrior like me felt deeply.
But as a king, it must feel different.
“We express gratitude for the emperor’s felicitations and hope to strengthen Mokryeo’s friendship,” King Bonhyeon replied.
Emperor.
A title above all but heaven.
A title Mokryeo’s king could never claim.
How galling it must be.
How desperately he must want it.
He’d likely rather die than utter the title “emperor,” one he could never possess.
The Hwawi envoy continued, “If your lord sincerely seeks true friendship, our emperor will not refuse.”
The response flowed smoothly. In my opinion, King Bonhyeon was cursing inwardly.
Yet his face showed no frown, not even a hint of displeasure. Sending a high-ranking envoy wasn’t a breach of etiquette—King Bonhyeon had to accept it.
He received the congratulations without protest.
But it was laughable. A man who acted withered, like an old soul tired of the world, now sparked with fire in his eyes at the mention of the emperor.
For the first time, I saw King Bonhyeon as a living man.
He’d seemed almost detached from worldly affairs, but now, stained with jealousy, envy, and inferiority, his expression was a marvel to behold.
Next came the lords. As the envoys descended, the lords began ascending. Naturally, those from powerful clans took precedence. Some were from tribes subjugated long ago, others loyal vassals of the Ye clan for generations.
“I greet Your Majesty,” the first lord said.
His eyes gleamed, as if he’d long awaited this moment.
Glancing at the other lords waiting, they seemed less pleased, eyeing King Bonhyeon with unease.
I didn’t know what this part was, but it seemed more advantageous for the lords than for the king.
Listening, I realized it was true. They came to offer congratulations, but it was a chance to air grievances.
As a festival for the day, the lords poured out their concerns before slowly descending. They were remarkably leisurely.
I whispered to Hanseon, “Why’s this so boring? If you’re going to have a banquet, shouldn’t it be lively?”
It was too dull for a wastrel like me. If I were a true wastrel or hadn’t taken Jongmeoki Flower tea today, I might’ve stormed out.
What a farce.
But Hanseon whispered back, “Listening to the lords and addressing their concerns is important, Your Highness.”
“The lord of Wolha congratulates Your Majesty’s birthday,” a lord declared.
Seeing a lord of such rank felt surreal, especially at eye level. Lords were once lofty figures, yet my knees instinctively bent at the title, already half-ready to kneel.
What a farce.
To me, a lord felt higher than His Majesty. It couldn’t be helped—I’d only known that world. Even if pushed to swim in bigger waters, my place remained small.
“I gladly receive Wolha’s congratulations,” King Bonhyeon replied.
If my memory was right, Wolha was a northern city, sizable with a long history. Not as ancient as Hyeolyunseong, but compared to it, most cities were infants.
I recalled hearing that heavy snow fell there in winter. The memory was vague, but likely correct—snow was common in the north.
It wasn’t a place you’d want to live. Beyond the northern border lay barbarian lands.
I’d heard tales of demonic beasts descending from there. Common folk would faint at mere wild animals, let alone demonic beasts. Life there must be grueling.
Of course, the border near Seopyeong was harsh too, but it was livable. Compared to the northern borderlands, a near-mythical wasteland, it was nothing.
That’s what I’d heard.
I’d never been there, so I didn’t truly know. I was just a Seopyeong bumpkin.
“I am deeply moved,” the lord of Wolha said, bowing.
A few more formal exchanges followed.
That alone would drag the banquet out by at least half an hour.
Sigh.
“With Wolha’s lord fulfilling his duties, I have no worries for the north,” King Bonhyeon said, feigning sincerity.
But in my view, his words were hollow, scraped together from obligation.
Either Wolha’s lord was born with fewer ambitions, or—
He didn’t seem to care, perhaps never expecting much. He’d come to say his piece.
It even felt pitiable.
“I humbly request,” the lord continued, “demonic beasts plague our people, causing hardship and poverty. If left unchecked, sustaining their lives will be difficult. We plan to launch a subjugation, but resources are scarce.”
A lord unable to handle his own city’s issues—quite the lord.
He bowed again, more deeply, his hair nearly touching the floor.
“I beseech you, send suitable aid to protect our city and its poor people.”
His face was shadowed, unreadable. No one could see his expression.
Some might think he was testing the royal family’s loyalty; others, that Wolha’s plight was genuine. Some might suspect hidden motives.
But without seeing Wolha, who could know its truth?
What kind of state was it, begging for help like this?
No answer came, so I looked to King Bonhyeon.
His expression was hard to read.
If that was Wolha’s lord’s intent—
King Bonhyeon replied formally, promising to send suitable aid. I listened to every word.
But who would he send?
With Queen Wu’s rise, the warriors’ influence had waned, not just recently.
The Deposed Queen’s attire was that of warriors.
Queen Wu’s was that of scholars.
The Deposed Queen’s death and Generalissimo So’s silence meant warriors had been overtaken by scholars. No one would eagerly volunteer for Wolha in King Bonhyeon’s service.
A thought struck.
Should I go?
It didn’t seem like a bad idea.