Chapter 17: Echoes of a Forgotten Power

“I’m going to the palace library.”

“What?”

It was the second time Hanseon, the eunuch, had asked me to repeat myself.

“What’s with all the questions? This is the third time you’ve made me repeat myself! Are you deaf? Got an earache? I said I’m going to the library! The library! You know, where they keep books? You do know what a book is, don’t you? Those things with writing all bound together?”

I said I was going to look at books, but it seemed to sound bizarre to him.

“You’re going to the library, Your Highness?”

Hanseon was shocked.

“Good heavens! Our Highness is going to the library? Is the sun rising in the west today? No, no, this won’t do. The day Your Highness visits the library calls for a celebration or something!”

I’m losing my mind.

Hanseon’s dramatic reaction made my ears ring painfully.

Anyway, I left the meal early that morning and headed to the palace library. As I stepped inside, the musty smell of old books hit me. It’s been a while since this place was aired out, hasn’t it?

If I sneezed, would it cause a commotion? Are there rules about that here?

Feeling less than thrilled, I began rummaging through the books.

“The oldest ones should be over here.”

I decided to start with the oldest records. Documents about the Founder King, Taejo, would likely be categorized there.

Records about Taejo were sparse, given how long ago he lived. Even when I found books labeled as records, they either lacked substance or were suspiciously embellished.

“This is the palace library, and they manage it this poorly?”

My main goal was to find the legend of Taejo’s founding of the kingdom.

Legends, by nature, are hard for educated people to take seriously. There’s always some exaggeration.

A wastrel like me? A crow that can be heard a hundred li away? All nonsense.

Sure, there’s talk of a mythical bird in the southern provinces that speaks, and I’ve heard of abilities that let you hear far-off sounds. But those are quite different from the things in Taejo’s legend. In short, the legend is so fantastical that it’s hard to believe sincerely.

If only the ability that supposedly made Taejo the Founding King had been passed down through the generations, it might be different. But the royal family’s abilities are practically nonexistent now, so the legend’s credibility has hit rock bottom. Who’d believe in something invisible, especially a story from centuries ago?

And yet…

Sigh.

Even sounds that shouldn’t be audible to one’s own will, or the bizarrely heightened senses that let you hear things you shouldn’t—I’d experienced them all.

How could I not believe?

What’s more, I’d personally seen Taejo’s spirit.

Finding someone who doesn’t know Taejo’s legend is harder than finding someone who’s never eaten rice. In this country, rice is the most common crop, so finding someone who’s never tasted it is near impossible. Likewise, everyone knows Taejo’s legend.

Naturally, I’d heard bits of it growing up.

But knowing the legend and believing it are two different things. I was firmly in the “don’t believe” camp.

Yet, to deny Taejo’s legend now, I’d gone too far down the rabbit hole.

A chill ran through me.

“There aren’t many legends in the world…”

If I dug into every story passed down by word of mouth, I’d find all sorts of tales. Thinking that such legends might actually be true sent shivers down my spine. Especially in the northern border regions, there were plenty of stories about strange beings. Even in Seopyeong, where many died, such rumors occasionally surfaced.

I could only hope the monsters in children’s tales weren’t real.

Lost in these thoughts, I pulled a few books and skimmed the important parts. Before I knew it, the sun was high.

Time for lunch.

If I were a beggar, the best meal would undoubtedly be rice.

Palace rice was truly delicious.

I’d lived twenty-four years without knowing this, and now I wanted to live knowing it.

Even knowing how good palace rice was, it didn’t change much about my beggar’s life. That’s just how it is.

Returning to Hyeonnyeongdang, a palace maid soon brought food.

Steaming white rice, greasy meat side dishes, fish you’d never see in landlocked Seopyeong, and several kinds of vegetables. Even in Hyeolyunseong, I ate well, but my last memories were of old battlefields, so proper meals as Baekyeon felt like ancient history.

As I prepared to eat, I felt eyes on me.

I knew exactly who it was.

“Hey.”

Today was that day.

“Hey, you.”

The day I’d made a bet with that crow.

“No answer?”

I picked up my chopsticks and waved them in the air, but the crow’s eyes didn’t seem to be looking my way.

After a few tries, I finally got its attention.

“It’s the day of our bet. Why’re you so quiet? Think you’re at a disadvantage? Think I’m gonna win?”

Its gaze sharpened.

“Look at that! Not talking?”

Rustle.

I went to the cage, opened it, and took the crow out myself. It was the cage Hanseon had provided.

It seemed to know my hands could be rough, as it didn’t resist.

“Big guy, you’re kinda heavy, aren’t you?”

What would a beggar’s pet crow think?

I’d probably guessed most of its thoughts.

As a lifelong beggar, I’d say it was hunger.

The sorrow of not eating, dragging around a starving belly, going hungry day after day. To forget that hunger, you try to sleep, but you’re too hungry to even do that.

So, while I teased the crow, I made sure to feed it some rice.

And now look at it.

I sighed.

In that moment, it squawked.

It flapped its wings in protest, making a fuss.

But no amount of flapping would reduce the weight it had already gained.

“What are you doing, messing around at the rice table?”

I clicked my tongue and gave it a look, and it quieted down again.

What was I thinking?

I was going to win this bet, and I’d probably have to keep looking at this thing for a while.

Calling it “crow” or “bird” all the time didn’t feel right.

“Hey.”

The crow’s black eyes, tucked in its feathers, stared at me.

“No name?”

“Hmph! What use is a name? Who dares give me a name? A mere human giving a spirit like me a trivial name?”

So, no name.

“No name? Fine, I’ll give you one.”

What should I call it? I’d never named anything, let alone received a name from someone else.

Since it flies in the sky, how about Kun (坤)?

“Gonjo.”

When I called it, its black head tilted.

“That’s what I’ll call you. From now on, you’re Gonjo, the Kun.”

Holding Gonjo in one hand, I pressed its head gently with the other, as if patting it.

“Now that I’ve named you, let’s be straight. If you behave, there’s no harm in it. You could become a good bird, even a great one. If you misbehave, though, it’s the end—your neck’s on the line.”

Instead of flapping, it froze, as if caught.

There was no fun in teasing when it didn’t react.

Alright, enough of that. Let’s get to the point.

I let Gonjo go and started eating. As I swallowed each bite, I spoke.

“I have an ability, and you knew I’d figure it out, didn’t you? Stopping the Jongmeoki Flower—that was a serious decision, even in front of you.”

I didn’t mention that Gonjo could roam freely in Hyeonnyeongdang. Naturally, it could overhear what Hanseon and I discussed.

“But if I have this ability, what does it have to do with you? What kind of bird are you? With me? My ability?”

Pointing my chopsticks at Gonjo, it flinched and raised its head.

“You know you can’t dodge this now. You agreed to the bet. From now on, if you spout nonsense, it’s snip—your neck.”

I made a cutting motion with my hand.

“Squawk!”

Why did Gonjo linger around the first prince? Compared to others, the first thing that came to mind was the ability.

It must be an ability like Taejo’s, passed down through the royal line.

If I’m the only one with this ability, that’s why you’ve been following me, right?

“H-h-how…”

“Don’t underestimate human intelligence, crow.”

“Ack!”

I put on a bit of swagger.

“I don’t make bets I’m going to lose.”

No one makes a bet they think they’ll lose, right?

“So, what’s this ability got to do with you? Spill it, I’m going crazy here. At least tell me what’s good about it.”

I said I’d stop the Jongmeoki Flower, but my nerves were still on edge. I’d decided to taper off gradually as a compromise, so I was still taking it.

Then Gonjo, reluctantly, began to speak.

Here’s the thing.

It knew from the start that the first prince had an ability.

By “start,” it meant when Prince Ye-kyeong was born.

To understand Gonjo’s explanation properly, I first had to accept its identity.

“You’re a spirit, aren’t you?”

“I told you, listen properly or you’ll regret it. My memory’s still sharp.”

It seemed Gonjo was indeed a spirit.

“You served the first king of this land, didn’t you?”

“Pfft, nonsense.”

“Squawk!”

And it was Taejo’s ability that made Gonjo a spirit.

But something was off.

What was it?

“What’s strange?”

“What’s strange about it?”

“Look, you became a spirit or whatever because of that ability, right? I don’t know how it works, but…”

That’s right.

“Taejo’s ability has been gone for generations.”

Right.

“It’s been, what, a few centuries?”

I put down my chopsticks and counted on my fingers.

Ugh, whatever.

“Even if it’s just a couple hundred years, how come the ability hasn’t shown up in so long?”

I’d read it in the palace library this morning, so it couldn’t be wrong.

And yet, an ability that had vanished was sustaining this creature’s spirit?

That’s strange.

Thinking about it, Gonjo’s claims felt a bit off.