189.
〈The Dark Shadow Before the Throne〉
Civil war is difficult to govern for this reason.
Each decision binds death and survival together.
The moment one is chosen, the other becomes one's responsibility.
Lee In-jung answered briefly.
"Loyalty."
He rose after finishing his report and turned to Park Seong-jin.
"Nothing amiss?"
"Loyalty. Suspicious figures moved about. They did not enter the main hall, so I maintained vigilance."
"Suspicious figures?"
At that question, the eyes of both the king and the Grand Princess Noguk widened at once.
The king and queen had been together, yet neither had sensed anything.
Park Seong-jin raised a finger without speaking and indicated several points.
"There."
High above the pillars, beneath the hanging ornaments where darkness pooled.
When Lee In-jung's escorting soldiers rushed forward, something thrashed and fell from above.
The sound of a sword hilt striking stone rang out.
A body rolled, landing with a dull thud.
In that instant the soldiers drove their spearpoints in without hesitation.
A wet, choking sound followed; the black shape convulsed once, then blood spread across the floor.
The disturbance was settled quickly, sharply.
Park Seong-jin's finger moved again.
"And there. Five behind the pillar at the end of the corridor."
Once more the soldiers moved.
Steel struck steel; suppressed groans followed.
Feet slipped against the stone pavement.
Soon the audience hall fell still.
As the hall began to breathe again, Park Seong-jin blinked once and asked quietly,
"…The Gyeonryong Guard—are they trustworthy?"
"Where?"
"About ten are hiding beneath the upper stair. Their murmuring has been coarse since moments ago. They spoke ill of Your Majesty and Her Highness in secret."
Park Seong-jin's perception was different; what he heard could not be mistaken.
At the words "Her Highness," the king's expression hardened at once.
The document trembling in the Grand Princess's hand went still, as if dead.
Lee In-jung glanced once at the king and shouted immediately.
"Seize them!"
His soldiers rushed beneath the stair and dragged ten members of the Gyeonryong Guard out, forcing them to their knees.
Some avoided eye contact.
Some lifted their chins, feigning calm, as if innocent of wrongdoing.
All eyes turned to Park Seong-jin.
He spoke low and clearly.
"That man spoke first. He said, 'If this chaos succeeds, we must take good positions—draw your blades.' I do not know how else to name it: instigation, provocation."
The man Park Seong-jin pointed to drew his sword in a flash.
In that instant, Lee In-jung's blade cut through the air.
It was a flawless draw-cut.
Before the man's motion was complete, Lee In-jung's sword broke wrist and weapon together.
The man collapsed without even screaming.
Blood burst from the severed wrist and poured out in a rush.
He writhed, clutching with his remaining hand.
Without turning his head, Park Seong-jin raised his finger again.
"And that one said, 'We must kill the king now to enthrone a new ruler.'"
The man indicated could not draw his sword.
He scooted backward on the floor, words tangling.
"No. I never said that."
The king watched him briefly, then shifted his gaze to Park Seong-jin.
Park Seong-jin drew a breath and said,
"Your Majesty. I heard everything. These are not guards. They hold neither respect nor loyalty. Exclude them all."
The king did not answer.
He signaled Lee In-jung with his chin.
There was no hesitation on Lee In-jung's face.
The remaining nine were dragged away.
Outside the doors came short screams, struggling, the sound of steel cutting flesh.
Then silence fell.
The doors opened again.
The Chief of the Gyeonryong Guard, Park Cheol-gu, burst into the throne hall.
His eyes were bloodshot; dried blood clung to his hands.
He shouted toward the king—and at Lee In-jung as well.
"Why are you executing our soldiers!"
The guards and eunuchs who had been holding their breath lifted their heads as one.
The cry struck the gilded ceiling and echoed back.
Lee In-jung stepped forward.
His voice was low—low enough to be oppressive.
"This is the royal presence. Restrain yourself."
"Does the royal presence allow you to slaughter our men!"
As Park Cheol-gu's shout burst out, the air of the hall split coldly.
Lee In-jung growled under his breath.
"If you draw that, you will die."
From outside came the clash of armored bodies and spears.
Through the gap Park Cheol-gu had forced open, dozens of Gyeonryong faces flickered.
Some had already drawn their blades.
Park Seong-jin stepped forward.
At Lee In-jung's signal, his direct soldiers closed in on either side of Park Seong-jin like wings.
The king and the Grand Princess withdrew to the deepest place beneath the lamps.
It was a night when the flames of insurrection threatened to reach the palace itself.
The breath of rebellion had pressed into the throne hall.
Park Cheol-gu shouted,
"You dogs!"
Before the king could speak, Park Cheol-gu's rash command tore through the hall.
"Strike!"
The moment his words ended, Park Seong-jin's curved blade sprang free as if rebounding.
Crossing his feet, he erased the distance in a single breath.
The sword descended toward Park Cheol-gu's head.
Clang.
Park Cheol-gu barely drew in time to block.
True to the title of Chief of the Gyeonryong, his movements had form—
the lines of block and evasion were refined.
But refinement could not withstand the speed of the battlefield.
Once pressed, pressure followed without pause.
Catching the moment Park Cheol-gu's breath wavered,
Park Seong-jin twisted his blade, breaking the man's center.
He hooked the ankle with his leg, disrupting the weight.
Again the sword cut in along the shoulder line.
Blood sprayed.
Park Cheol-gu lashed out instinctively.
Park Seong-jin dropped his body and let it pass,
then sprang upward—his knee driving into the long jaw.
The head snapped back.
Blood burst from the nose.
Another Gyeonryong rushed in.
Park Cheol-gu roared like a beast.
"Kill him! Kill that one!"
Park Seong-jin did not meet them head-on.
One step back, another to the side.
He took position before the ranks of the Signal Guard that had followed Lee In-jung.
Flank and rear were sealed tight.
That position itself was a shield.
As the Gyeonryong surged, the Signal Guard's spearmen absorbed the front.
Then Park Seong-jin advanced again.
A diagonal cut split the front man's lapel in a single stroke.
Lowering his stance, he swept horizontally—two men collapsed from the knees and rolled.
Three more came in.
His body turned half a circle, carving a broad arc across their waists.
Two clutched their chests and fell.
A thrust followed immediately, piercing another straight through.
Though the telling is long, it unfolded as one seamless flow,
as if every soul in the path of Park Seong-jin's movement were drawn out and extinguished.
Each flash of the silver blade sent enemies collapsing in heaps.
The sword had fully entered his body now.
He moved freely.
Footwork, body movement, and blade were dissolved into breath.
They could no longer be distinguished,
because motion itself had melted into the cuts.
Bodies struck the stone in rapid succession.
Only then did glances pass among the remaining Gyeonryong.
They understood—it would not work.
They had thought a secret uprising could seize the king.
Some exchanged looks, some shook their heads, some stepped back.
It was already too late.
Individually, their martial skill may have been higher.
But as Park Seong-jin shattered the vanguard and the Signal Guard pressed in tight formation,
the Gyeonryong's reliance on individual form collapsed in an instant.
"Formation! Spread wide!"
Lee In-jung's command fell.
The soldiers formed a circle around the throne hall.
They replaced the Gyeonryong Guard.
Order was restored within chaos.
Park Seong-jin moved to the very center of the circle.
He stood beneath the lamps, the king and princess behind him.
Between blood and firelight, his blade gleamed like moonlight.
Outside the doors, the uproar continued.
But here, at the heart of the hall, this single span of ground had to be held.
Before that brutal scene, the king found himself without words.
The Grand Princess swallowed once, steadying her breath.
The doors of the hall still trembled.
The rebellion had been stopped at the throne,
yet somewhere within the city walls, greater flames were still spreading.