Even two months after the fall of Chief State Councilor Choi and his clan, not all the important positions at court had yet been filled. Suitable people had to be chosen — worthy, capable, and loyal. The new director of the Bureau of Appointments approached his task with the utmost responsibility, determined not to let down his respected patron, Councilor Kim, and at the same time not to miss his own, as they say, “personal opportunities.”

  For example, at the moment his thoughts were occupied with the appointment of the Chief Stable Master. One could, of course, simply promote one of the senior grooms, and a shortsighted man would have done just that. But the Royal Stables often cooperated with the Ministry of Defence, which meant the Minister of Defence himself and his assistant, the director of the Bureau of Military Affairs, had a direct interest in the choice. And today these esteemed colleagues had invited the director of the Bureau of Appointments to join their small party in one of the best gibangs in the capital.

  They were not hosting the party themselves. The point was that the second son of one of the richest merchants in the country had recently managed to pass the first stage of the state examination. The youth was not a noble, but such a promising young man would surely find a place at court if he secured proper patronage. It was likely that his proud father wished to express his respect and gratitude to those who could influence his son’s fate.

  The director of the Bureau of Appointments was a man of broad views. He was willing to consider a candidate from outside the upper class if that candidate was sufficiently educated and wealthy. So this evening might well turn out fortunate for them both.

  And it became even more fortunate when the director of the Bureau of Appointments saw that the esteemed Minister of Defence had brought along an unexpected guest. Prince Seojin himself was sharing their modest banquet at the gibang!

  Until now, the director of the Bureau of Appointments had only seen the elder prince at royal councils, where he himself stood far from the front row, so the chance to make his acquaintance at close range delighted him greatly.

  ***

  Prince Seojin, however, felt no delight. Yi Yun had not planned any banquets at all. He had merely intended to walk around the city in simple clothes and perhaps drop by at the queen’s palace without notifying her. Unfortunately, he had not thought to conceal his face, and the new Minister of Defence hailed him right in the middle of the street.

  They exchanged the required greetings, and then the Minister of Defence, doubtless burning with the desire to show his gratitude to the Kim family for his high position, invited the prince to a “friendly gathering.” A friend of his, he said, was celebrating his son’s success: the boy had passed the preliminary examination in summer, and it had just become known that he had also passed the first stage of the main exam with flying colors. Two more trials, and the youth would be able to claim a post at court!

  Naturally, Yi Yun could not refuse to share such joy with his subjects. Looking more closely at the new scholars would in any case be useful, for it was from among them that the future ministers and bureau directors for the next ruler would arise.

  What Yi Yun had not expected was that the student would turn out not to be of noble blood. His father was some merchant, and the celebration had been arranged in an expensive capital gibang. When bright skirts and translucent sleeves began flitting around him, Yi Yun started to regret his decision.

  Generally speaking, he was not opposed to educated men from the middle class serving in the government. But now, looking at the excessive pomp and expense of the festivities, he could not help wondering whether the examiner had simply been bribed.

  After all, who else and why would celebrate with such fanfare merely the first stage of the exam?

  There were five trials in all: two preliminary ones, winter and summer, to pick out the more or less literate candidates in the provinces. Then came the main examination, held in the capital: in September and November the students competed before the examiners, and in December the most talented received the chance to answer questions in the presence of the king himself.

  The best of the best could be appointed to posts as soon as the results were announced.

  Members of the royal family did not sit examinations. By tradition, princes had their own tutors and were expected to study far more thoughtfully and diligently than any student aiming for an official’s post.

  Yi Yun had been left without royal tutors early, but Councilor Choi had generously found him new ones. So he had not abandoned his studies, and had even once, in secret from everyone, tried to sit the exam under a false name in a neighboring province.

  He passed the preliminary selection, but did not dare appear for the trials in the capital. Who knew what might have happened if his identity had been revealed in the middle of the examination?

  The pale youth with the long, dull face hidden behind large spectacles, whose success several ministers were celebrating tonight, had at least managed to advance further than Yi Yun himself.

  “I always knew my boy would become the pride of our family!” his ruddy-cheeked father exclaimed, pouring rice wine for the assembled guests. He himself had apparently begun celebrating back at noon. “Please, do not overlook him, honored lords! With all modesty, he will be delighted to serve you.”

  “There are still two examinations left,” Yi Yun could not help remarking. Sharing a table with such dubious people made his skin crawl. It positively reeked of corruption.

  “I am sure he will pass them as easily as the first one and show those stuck-up fellows that we amount to something as well!” Merchant Pak retorted proudly, then broke off, evidently realizing what and in whose presence he had just blurted out.

  “Father meant that he believes my humble abilities may benefit the country, just as the abilities of other young masters may,” the guest of honor explained quietly, rising from his seat. “Father, you must be tired after arranging this wonderful celebration. Allow me to serve our noble guests myself.”

  The youth took the white jug from the embarrassed merchant and sat down opposite Yi Yun.

  “If you permit…” he bowed. At least the student knew how to behave.

  “How did it happen that you decided to sit the exam?” Yi Yun asked, holding out his cup.

  “When I was five, a wandering scholar noticed my aptitude for learning,” the youth said, filling the prince’s cup. “He managed to convince my father, and Father paid for the best tutors. I am doing my utmost to repay his kindness by passing the examination.”

  “And in which bureau would you like to work afterwards?” Yi Yun continued his questioning. It was obvious that the officials gathered here, especially the director of the Bureau of Appointments, had designs on the youth, but Yi Yun suddenly became curious what he himself was aiming for.

  “I am interested in the Inspectorate or the Ministry of Taxation,” the youth admitted, lowering his voice slightly and adjusting his spectacles. “But I shall be glad of any opportunity to prove myself, if I pass the exams.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Yi Yun gave a crooked smile. “You see opportunities for enrichment?”

  “I see injustices that can be stopped,” the youth corrected him, drawing his brows together. “I know I am nobody, and that amuses you, daegun. But I grew up among common people, and looking around me I saw countless abuses. If it is in my power to ease the people’s burdens even a little, then it ought to be done.”

  “Then you should aim for the State Councilors,” Yi Yun advised, raising his cup in salute. “Drink with me to the successful passing of your exams, future official.”

  The other men present exchanged meaningful looks. If a lowborn student had managed to please the prince himself, he really was worth taking under their wing.

  “There is the post of Chief Stable Master…” the director of the Bureau of Appointments said insinuatingly.

  Yi Yun drew his brows together and fixed him with a stern look.

  “A learned man is slow in speech but quick in action,” he quoted Confucius. “It is premature to promise posts when the examination has not yet taken place. Until December this conversation is meaningless.”

  The official grew flustered and began nodding rapidly, hiding his embarrassment. Who would have thought that even among his own supporters the prince would prove such a stickler for protocol?

  Fortunately, just then the doors to the room slid open, admitting a whole crowd of musicians and new dancers. The gisaeng who were already with the guests smiled, clapped their hands, and began trying to draw them into the dance. Merchant Pak and the Minister of Defence surrendered first: scrambling out from behind the table, they started stamping and clapping along with the whirling dancers.

  A slender sleeve brushed across Yi Yun’s face, leaving behind a trail of floral fragrance. Two gisaeng took him by the elbows, trying to pull him to his feet, someone’s delicate fingers traced lightly along his shoulder…

  “I must leave you,” Yi Yun said more sharply than he should have and, tearing himself from the beauties’ hands, hurried out into the corridor.

  There, too, the noise of music seeped through all the walls, strangers laughed and sang, and two more girls with coal-black hair coiled richly around their heads were swaying their hips as they approached him. Yi Yun swallowed, turned in the opposite direction, and walked purposefully toward the end of the corridor. He hoped to find an exit, but there was only a wall, and to avoid looking like a complete fool, he slid open the nearest door.

  Later he could apologize and leave, but right now he simply wanted to hide from the women closing in on him from all sides!

  “Elder brother?” a surprised exclamation met him, and before his eyes were Hyun and Commander of Wangwisa Yeong San. They were apparently combining dinner with the pleasant company of three young women. Even three was better than a dozen.

  Yi Yun glanced back and quickly stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked his brother sternly. A gibang was not the most appropriate place for a prince.

  “Commander Yeong agreed to show me how people amuse themselves in the capital,” Hyun flashed a broad smile. “It is a little different from what I am used to, but eating to music is more entertaining.”

  “Is this the young master’s brother?” the girl hanging on Hyun’s left shoulder exclaimed happily and at once began batting her eyes at Yi Yun. “Join us, nari! I shall call someone to serve you.”

  “There is no need,” Yi Yun shook his head, but still took a step toward the table.

  Hyun whispered something to his companion, then rose and, with a bow, yielded his seat in the center to Yi Yun. Commander Yeong contented himself with a nod and did not even think of standing or, for example, kowtowing. Judging by how the gisaeng addressed them, the girls did not know that they were entertaining two princes.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Yi Yun chose to assume the commander was simply maintaining their incognito.

  “In the next room the Minister of Defence is sitting with a few hangers-on,” Yi Yun reported as he settled. “If you do not wish to meet them, take care when you leave.”

  “And the young masters do not like the new Minister of Defence?” one of the gisaeng asked curiously, fluttering her lashes. Yi Yun turned away, pressing his lips together.

  “The young masters do not wish the Minister of Defence to tell their father that he met me in such a place,” Hyun answered with a chuckle, deftly turning the question from political to domestic and dull. “The trouble is, there are no beauties like you in Seonggyungwan, so we are forced to keep it secret.”

  At Seonggyungwan the most outstanding students from noble families studied the classics. It sounded as if Hyun were one of them, and looking at him it was easy to believe. The gisaeng evidently decided that was the case.

  “We shall not give you away,” the girls laughed and once more began pouring wine for their guests. The one who had been dancing when Yi Yun entered raised her arm again and nodded to the musician to resume the tune.

  “Is something wrong?” Hyun leaned toward his brother, covering his mouth with his sleeve. A convenient habit when one did not want others reading one’s words from one’s lips.

  “I am not used to such establishments,” Yi Yun admitted, a little nervously. “And you seem perfectly at ease?”

  “Not to boast, but back there I had several favorite places like this,” Hyun confided. “They promised to introduce me to another beauty here. Perhaps if it works out with her, I shall stop missing them so much…”

  “I see,” Yi Yun said and drank from his cup. He felt awkward.

  “If you like her, elder brother, I am ready to yield,” Hyun seemed to notice his discomfort. “Or if you favor someone else… I have no preferences yet, I am only following Commander Yeong’s advice.”

  “I do not consort with girls,” Yi Yun muttered, feeling sweat break out on his brow.

  “What do you mean?” Hyun frowned and leaned back a little.

  “I mean that it would be irresponsible,” Yi Yun tried to speak softly so as not to be overheard. “Unknown royal bastards, grandchildren of the king born as slaves… You should at least keep track of whom you amuse yourself with.”

  “Oh…” Hyun drew out, then shifted closer to his brother again and, in a conspiratorial whisper, asked, “So you have never been intimate with anyone at all?”

  Yi Yun set his cup aside, stood up, and left the room without saying goodbye. His ears were burning.

  He returned to the room where he had been spending the evening before, but his mood was ruined for good. To avoid the gisaeng’s close attention, Yi Yun decided to pretend he was drunk. He began laughing loudly, his gestures became deliberately large and careless. Seeing the prince so relaxed, the ministers themselves grew merrier. Some began reaching for their cups more often, some started singing, and Merchant Pak produced a mother-of-pearl inlaid box from somewhere and began offering its contents to the guests and even to the dancers. Under the patterned lid lay two rows of neat round pills wrapped in gold foil.

  “Here, try them, don’t be shy,” the merchant urged. “These are the famous Hwangu pills that open the path to the heavenly gardens of joy. An acquaintance of mine brought them from the province of Anju. They say herbalists make them from mountain herbs that grow only in the north!”

  At the familiar name, Yi Yun pricked up his ears. Was this not the very stuff that had almost poisoned Hwan recently?

  “Let me have a couple,” he called to the merchant. He needed to show them to the royal physician and perhaps to Commander Yeong. “And have you tried them yourself?”

  “Not yet, I was saving them for a special occasion,” Merchant Pak replied with a sugary smile.

  “So you wished to feed me something unknown and possibly dangerous?” Yi Yun raised an eyebrow. The merchant turned pale.

  “They are harmless little pills for pleasure, Your Highness,” the director of the Bureau of Military Affairs tried to intervene.

  “To my ear, it sounds rather like an assassination attempt and treason,” Yi Yun cut him off and rose decisively.

  The music fell silent at once; everyone held their breath. There was no accusation worse than treason.

  “Spare me! I did not mean…” the merchant babbled, his white fingers clutching the box.

  “I shall order an investigation to see whether this is poison,” Yi Yun said, taking the whole box from his trembling hands and snapping the lid shut. “Until then, do not even think of leaving the city.”

  It was an even better pretext than drunkenness, and so he strode proudly toward the exit, eager to escape this nest of lust as quickly as possible. On the threshold, Yi Yun turned back, put on an icy smile, and added:

  “You may continue your celebration. I shall not spoil your mood.”

  It worked perfectly. No one even dared escort him to the gate.

  On his way home, enjoying the evening coolness of the lantern-lit streets, Yi Yun tried to gather his thoughts. Why was it acceptable for Hyun to visit gisaeng, and not for him?

  Until now, Mother had strictly forbidden him to be alone with girls, lest he accidentally give her grandchildren of unknown origin. When he was fifteen, a couple of pretty maids in the councilor’s household had taken a fancy to him. With one of them he had even shared a stolen kiss behind the stone well. That was when Mother appeared and scolded him for his shortsightedness.

  “Do you truly not know what will happen if you start a new attachment, Yun?” she had said sternly. “Do you truly wish to bind yourself?”

  He had not wanted to understand her words then; they quarrelled. Mother vanished and returned a day later, saying that she would allow him to see that maid if… he first got himself a dog. And that dog lived with him for a year.

  At the time, Yi Yun decided it was about his youth, that Mother considered him not yet mature and responsible enough, and agreed. He found a sandy-colored puppy, began feeding him and teaching him tricks. The pup even learned to bring in shoes left at the threshold. The servants at first eyed his enthusiasm askance, but later the cook herself began setting aside scraps for the funny, knock-kneed dog.

  One day the councilor said it was time for Mu-in to start being useful and repay him for all his kindness and the effort invested in his education. In passing he reminded him of his brother. Then he ordered him to frighten some small shopkeeper. To come to his house with a couple of henchmen, wreak havoc, throw his belongings into the street… Mu-in asked what the poor man had done, but the councilor curtly snapped that it was none of his concern.

  Mu-in had to carry out three or four such punitive visits before the councilor decided that he was ready for real work. Then, for the first time, he was ordered to kill a man.

  Mu-in lay in ambush, waited for the right moment, attacked — and ran. He simply could not force himself to take another’s life. Naturally, the councilor was displeased. He reminded Mu-in of his promise and of the one whose fate depended on that promise. And since Mu-in had broken his part of the bargain, the councilor could just as easily back out of his own.

  “But,” the councilor added, “I am magnanimous and shall not take from you what is most precious, not the first time.”

  And he ruthlessly cut his dog in half, and Mu-in began to fear misstepping. For aside from the dog, whom he wept over all night, he had only his younger brother left. Mother had been right. Mu-in never again allowed himself any other attachments.

  But now that he had regained his position and Councilor Choi was gone — why was he still restricting himself?

  Out of habit?

  Even his affection for his newly found brother had to be hidden, lest it bring them disaster. He still feared to show closeness to anyone, foreseeing how that person might suffer because of his carelessness. It seemed there was only one person in the world whom he was not forbidden to love — his younger brother Hwan. And, of course, his father the king, but the king could be loved by everyone, as long as they kept a respectful distance.

  But was there any way to make his father like him again and shorten that distance?

  Yi Yun leaned against the trunk of a tree growing by the river and stared blankly down at the flowing water. The river smelled of wet grass. The fine ripples were barely lit by the distant glow of lanterns. The waves rustled and broke against a stone invisible in the dark before hurrying on toward the next bridge. Somewhere behind him the market street still buzzed; the late passersby were being called to supper, offered lanterns and umbrellas for the walk home. Yi Yun looked up and listened: rare drops of rain were indeed beginning to drum on the leaves. He should probably hurry back to the palace gate before it started pouring. He did not fear the rain for himself, but he did not want to soak the box of strange pills hidden in his sleeve. If he could find out who was behind them and poisoning his father’s subjects, perhaps that would do some good, and Father would smile at him again?

  “Yun-ah,” a familiar gentle voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “What are you doing? You will get soaked.”

  “Mother!” Yi Yun turned and bowed respectfully to the ghost. “Is Hwan well?”

  Most often she watched over her younger son and appeared when he needed help. But now that Yi Yun was living in the ghost-protected palace, they had almost stopped seeing each other. He worried that one day he might fail to learn something important in time.

  “The little one is studying diligently,” pride sounded in the ghost’s voice. “He is making up for lost time with great persistence. At last I can admire how he holds the brush rather than how he feeds pigs.”

  “Forgive me for not being able to bring him home sooner,” Yi Yun said contritely.

  “You have done all you could, my son,” the ghost raised her hand as if trying to touch his hair. Yi Yun saw a raindrop pass straight through the translucent sleeve. “How are you doing? I have not seen you in a long time.”

  “I attend the morning councils and the guards’ drills,” Yi Yun began to tell her. “The library has been moved to a new pavilion, it is not far from my quarters, which is convenient. I live in Myeongdang again; Father has allowed me to take your old rooms. Right now everyone in the palace is busy preparing for the ceremony…”

  “What ceremony?” the ghost asked with interest when Yi Yun faltered.

  “The ceremony of, ah…” he tried to choose his words. “You are to be granted the rank of queen, Mother. It is all Grandfather and his ministers…”

  “They are going to make me queen?!” The ghost rose higher and began to shine with a silvery light. “You are not joking? Oh, how I wish I could see it!”

  “I do not think it would be wise to break the palace wards,” Yi Yun hesitated. He could try, but how many other ghosts would be drawn into the palace?

  “No, of course not,” his mother agreed with a sigh. “But what joy! You must certainly offer new clothes and jewelry for me, so that I may look appropriate.”

  “Of course, Mother,” Yi Yun smiled. He had not seen her this happy in a long time. Perhaps he really should try to bring her back to the palace? “I do not wish to promise anything yet, but there may be a way to open the wards a little without breaking them, to let you pass inside.”

  “Very well, try, only do not put yourself in danger. You and Hwan will now be the sons of a queen,” she said admonishingly. “You know what that means.”

  “That it will become more difficult for Hyun to obtain the title of crown prince,” Yi Yun grimaced. “By the way, I saw him today. He is preparing a reception for the envoys from Great Qing, and…”

  “Yun-ah, I do not wish to hear anything about that spoiled boy,” his mother said sharply.

  “Hyun is not spoiled,” Yi Yun protested, defending his brother. “If not for him, Hwan and I would never have returned to the palace.”

  “He has done what a brother ought to have done,” the ghost lifted her chin higher and folded her arms proudly under her robes. “But he is your younger brother, Yun-ah! You will be the son of a queen. You must win back your place, not bestow it on some… upstart!”

  “Mother!” Yun gasped. “Please, do not speak of him like that. Hyun will be a fine ruler.”

  A ghostly hand flashed toward his face, and he could almost feel the slap.

  “Do not you dare give the throne to a concubine’s son,” his mother hissed. “Do you not understand what he will do to you and to Hwan if he gains power? My naive child.”

  “Hyun is not like that, Mother!” Yi Yun lowered his voice so as not to attract the attention of passersby. “He dreams of freeing the country and thinks of the good of the people. And… I offered him a chance to get rid of me, but he forbade it.”

  “Do not you dare speak of him as though he were your master, Yun-ah!” his mother exclaimed in horror. “You must obey only your father. Do not let that boy deceive you. You are older than he is, more experienced, you have gone through so much for this throne. Do not let it slip away because of some foolish tender attachment.”

  “Father ordered us to think of the family and support one another,” Yi Yun tried to wriggle out.

  “Wonderful,” his mother snorted. “You may invite him for tea. And he may support your claim to the title of crown prince, as a good younger brother should. Right, Yun-ah? Is that not what your father desires?”

  “I do not know what he desires,” Yun sighed heavily and looked at the running water again. “He does not say anything outright. I can see that he favors Hyun and, to be honest, I understand why. Hyun is really—”

  “Enough about another woman’s son!” the ghost snapped again. “If the king did not favor you, he would not have named me queen after so many years. He is waiting for you to show yourself. What can you do to stand out?”

  “I have been thinking about one thing,” Yi Yun admitted, and began to tell her about the box of pills. The ghost drifted from side to side, tapping her finger thoughtfully against her lips.

  “This may work, if it proves large enough in scale,” his mother finally agreed. “Do try. And visit Hwan before he forgets what you look like.”

  “Will it be convenient?” Yi Yun brightened. He tried not to disturb his brother without reason, so as not to frighten him or distract him from his studies.

  “Of course,” his mother replied sharply. “You are his elder brother, to whom he owes his life. Try drawing closer to your real brother instead of that upstart.”

  “Very well, Mother,” Yi Yun decided not to continue the argument. In any case, she had no way to prevent him from speaking to both of his brothers.

  The rain was growing heavier.