Chapter Text
In a distant past, many, many centuries ago, there lived a god named Haemosu. Haemosu was the first son of the Heavenly Emperor, and he was revered by all beings who existed in the three realms of the Earth. He was known for his power over the Sun, and like the Sun, Haemosu would descend from the heavens and upon the realm of the mortals every morning. It was said that he would arrive in his Five Dragon Chariot, pulled along by nitrous fire and the winds and clouds. His arrival would mark the light of a new day, and the warmth of the Gods was blessed upon the coolness of the Earth upon his descent. When evening came, Haemosu would saddle into his chariot, and ascend back into the heavens, taking the warmth of the Sun with him.
It was during one of Haemosu’s walks amongst the living that he spotted a fair maiden—fairer than any celestial being he had come across before—weaving together a crown of flora amidst a golden field. Her dark hair shone in the bright sunlight, her face small and round, her nose petite and rounded at the tip. What drew the Sun God in, however, were her wide, round eyes and beautifully rosy lips. Haemosu stood there, silently observing this maiden, shrouded amongst the mists of the wind and clouds, until she had completed her floral crown, and it was with joy and pride that she gently placed the crown upon her locks. Her smile was absolutely wondrous, pink lips curving out into a heart-shaped grin and her eyes fluttering into a crescent that had Haemosu envying the Moon for its silhouette. And then it was so, that Haemosu fell in love.
The Sun God decided he would make his love known at once, and that he would have her immediately. He stepped out from the mists and into the soils of the mortal realm, revealing himself to the young maiden in that instant. With deep passion, he declared his love and devotion to her.
Startled by his sudden presence and revelation, she turned tail and flee, her delicate floral crown falling into the golden field as she escaped. Of course, as the Sun God, he could have easily chased after her—but he was Haemosu, and Haemosu held himself in dignity. Instead, he absconded back into the mists and stretched his powers and spirit throughout the planes of the realm until he found his love once more.
For the next few days, Haemosu followed her around. He learned of her name—Samshin—and that she was the young daughter, still of only one and twenty, to a millet cultivator. Like the day he found her, Samshin loved flowers, and would often sit alone in the fields, braiding necklaces and bracelets and crowns out of petals and stems. Her creations were nearly as beautiful as her, intricate but delicate. But most days, she helped her father with harvesting the grains, feeding her two young sisters, and tending her ailing mother. She would venture into the small village at the foot of the mountains, and barter grains for vegetables, but the soil was barren on the island and any crops besides Samshin’s golden flowers had difficulties flourishing. On these days, Samshin would head home empty-handed, or with a mere few weedlings to show for her hardships. Many days would go by, and Haemosu would watch as the family struggled to eat their fill. He witnessed their sorrows, the way Samshin would quietly sob into her beddings at night, and he felt in himself, for the first time, the feeling of pain. He ached to watch his loved one suffer, and he longed to soothe her.
After one particularly difficult day, Haemosu showed himself to her once more. Samshin had been walking down the mountain by way of her usual rocky route, and was nearly at the foot of the mountain when she spotted a great figure at the end of the path. There Haemosu was, adorned in the feathers of crows, his stature grand and proud. With a booming voice, loaded with spectacular power, Haemosu proposed a solution to her.
If Samshin agreed to take his hand in marriage, he would gift her family with bountiful harvest. Not only would her millet farmer father no longer struggle with his crops, but they would be left with enough produce to feed the entire village. Her mother will no longer lay in her sickbed, cured by the richness of the vegetables, and her sisters would have the energy to eat a full portion each. Every year’s harvest would be greater than the last, and she would never have to worry for her family again.
But to his great astonishment, she refused him.
“I am betrothed,” she told him. She was trembling, her knuckles white with how tightly she gripped her woven basket. But she stood firm, her small face turned upwards in pride and beautiful heart-shaped lips turned downwards. “I have a lover, and he is currently away on a quest. But he will be back soon.”
Haemosu drew himself even taller, towering over the young maiden. He looked down his nose at her. “Your betrothal means nothing to me, my love. I can offer you all the wealth and abundance in the world, I can give you the Sun if you so wish. I can bring your family from starvation and heal your sickly mother. All you need to do is to stay with me, forever.”
Samshin quivered before him. Here there was, a great Sun God before her, offering a solution to the plague haunting her family and village for months now. She was afraid of her family’s future, and knew that if she accepted his hand in marriage, she would no longer have to be afraid for their fates.
But she remained afraid for her own.
And it was true, that she was in love. She had met strong and handsome Yongwang many moons ago, whose love for her and her love for him seemed to germinate within the soils of their Earth, for crops had been plenty when he was still here. And he had left at the beginning of winter, promising for his swift return as soon as he gained approval from his family for their marriage. Before he left, he had promised eternal devotion to her and she wanted nothing more but to do the same.
It killed her to have to choose between a secured fate for her family or towards the uncertain future with Yongwang. But she could not and would not betray herself, her love, her desires.
“I am betrothed,” she restated. “And I will toil as hard and for as long as I need to until the crops are growing once more and my family is fed. We have survived this long, and we will survive longer. I will not let them perish, and I will not sacrifice myself and my body to you.”
Haemosu was not happy with her response, but for that day, he acquiesced to her demand. There was a joy for him to chase after her, and he did not mind waiting just a little longer. It would only be a matter of time until she gave in, until the drought had forced her hand and she would come, willingly, to him instead.
But before that day came, Yongwang arrived at the island. He came by boat, a journey that took days and nights, but he had arrived safe and healthy against all odds. Upon descending the boat, Yongwang immediately ventured up the mountain, counting his steps until he arrived at the doorstep of Samshin. With great joy, he greeted her at her door, and the two lovers kissed fondly as Haemosu watched on. The Sun God was stewing now, his anger rising in increments as he watched the young couple and their unruly, uncouth behaviour.
Still, he did nothing. He was sure that she would soon seek him out, as the winter dragged on and the soil remained barren. He just needed for her to be desperate, and then he would save her.
Against all odds, however, the crops began growing again. Even in the winter, they bloomed. It was as if Yongwang, in his return to the island, had brought with him goodwill and abundance. The village rejoiced, and most of all amongst them, Samshin and her loved ones as well. It felt as if they were finally able to live in happiness now, and taking in the new harvest as a blessing from the heavens, Samshin and Yongwang secured their engagement and were set to marry.
Throughout all of this, Haemosu quaked in anger. How could this mortal man come in and steal away his beloved? Samshin was his, and he could not bear to witness another man take his rightful place.
In his fury, Haemosu cast a great curse across the land. For one hundred days and one hundred nights, Haemosu ordered for ten Suns to arise together in the sky. The ten Suns would burn so brightly, stronger than even his own chariot, that all greens and grains in the realm would be scorched. He would raze this Earth, if it was out of his twisted love.
Under his decree, ten Suns rose each day. The fire from their rays burned the land to a crisp, and all crops were destroyed. The waters seemed to recede, more than before, and the land was left scorched, starving and desolate. No one, not a single living being, human or animal, was excused from this reign of terror. It was a time of suffering and great depression. Samshin and her family wept at their loss, and she sought comfort in Yongwang’s arms when it seemed as if her mother would not make it another day.
Out of desperation, Yongwang clasped at his lover’s hands, gripping them tight inside his own palms. He had heard of a legend about this island on his journey here, and while he wasn’t sure how true it was, he wasn’t sure they had any other choice but to try.
“There is an old lady, a shaman, and I hear she lives deep within these mountains. The men on our boat told me that in desperate times, you may ask her for guidance and support and as long as you prove that you are worthy of her assistance, she will grant you what you need.”
Of course, Samshin, too, had heard of this legend. But the mountain was steep and rocky, and the burning Suns would scorch them without adequate protection. But what choice did she have? What will did she have to live if her poor mother passed?
After a night of preparation, both Samshin and Yongwang set out to explore the depths of the mountain. They bundled themselves up in as many layers of protective clothing as possible to shield themselves from the Suns’ rays, but not too much that they would pass from heat exhaustion. And the journey was not easy, and Samshin was convinced that she would die before they would find the shaman’s dwellings, or before they gave up and retraced their steps back home—and she nearly did not make it. Bogged down from the layers of clothing, bearing the brunt of the heat waves, exhaustion was setting down upon her and their water supply was running dangerously low. Yongwang had taken to carrying her weight up the mountain, in addition to their belongings, and each step felt like yet another nail in the coffin. He wept and prayed to the Gods for help, and it seemed as if his prayers were unanswered until suddenly, he found a dark cave that miraculously remained damp and cool despite the scorching air.
Yongwang had only just gently laid down his lover, wiping delicately at her brow, when he heard an old voice croak out from behind him.
“You must be Yongwang, and that must be Samshin.” It was an elderly lady, stooped low with a bent back and creaky knees. Her hair was scraggly and grey, and her face had wrinkles so deep, it felt as if they were stone etchings. She supported herself with a wooden cane that looked to have been made from the trees on the mountain.
Astonished, Yongwang stared back at her. He had no energy left, and could not muster the strength to greet her properly.
“I had felt that you were coming,” she said. She slowly ambled towards Samshin, who was lying unconscious on the ground, and held out her hand with a small object in her palm for Yongwang to take. Gingerly, he accepted her proffered gift and looked down. It was a vial of unknown substance, and he looked back at her in confusion.
“Have your Samshin drink this, and you too. You will regain your strength back.”
At her urging, and feeling as if he had no other choice, Yongwang listened to the elder’s words. With amazement, feeling returning back to his sore feet, the blisters closing over, the burns on his hands from the sun soothing over, and his throat no longer felt parched. When he looked down at Samshin, he found that her colour was returning rapidly and she was shifting now, eyes fluttering as she was brought back to consciousness.
This was no ordinary shaman.
As if she could hear and understand his thoughts, the elderly woman smiled. She had no teeth, but Yongwang found that he was not put off by the gumminess of her grin. “You’re right,” she said.
But before Yongwang could react, he heard a small cough coming from Samshin. Quickly, he bent to support her and sat her up. She blinked, gingerly holding onto Yongwang for support, as she took in her surroundings.
“Where…?”
“My name is Hanla-halmi, God of Yeongjusan, Protector of Spirits and Life on this mountain.”
Samshin and Yongwang could only stare in shock. A God?
“I heard your cries for help. This island is dying, all because of a foolish God. I will help you, but only if you prove you are worthy of help,” she said. She took a hard look at the two humans before nodding. She then held out a hand, fingers closed and facing downwards, and when Samshin and Yongwang opened their palms up to her, she dropped a small golden petal in each of their palms. “For ten days, you must eat this flower, and only this flower. If you succeed, then I will restore the nature of your island as it should be. If you fail, then there is nothing I can do to help you.”
Then, suddenly, the God began receding back into the shadows until only the echoes of her voice remained. “Today marks your first day.”
And for those ten days, both Samshin and Yongwang stayed in the dark cave, still cooler than it should be thanks to the powers of Hanla-halmi. Each day, they ate one flower each. The flower would miraculously appear once more every morning, and so they persevered. Through hunger and thirst, through the anxieties and worries of their loved ones back home, and the state of the village, they put all their hopes in this one task. It felt hopeless, silly, but still, they carried themselves through those ten days with nothing but a single petal to nourish them.
On the tenth day, Hanla-halmi reappeared. Her physical form was as worn and stooped as she had appeared ten days earlier, but now, there was a golden glow around her. When she spoke, her voice carried and boomed through the cave.
“Congratulations. Samshin, Yongwang, you have successfully passed the trial. In reward for your perseverance, I will grant you your wishes and restore this land to its natural state. The Sun God will not be able to harm you in this realm again.”
And then, she vanished.
When Samshin and Yongwang left the cave, they found that the ten Suns were not only gone, replaced by merely the one, but the land was now fertile and the water was plenty and fresh. It took a full day’s journey, but when they returned to their home, they found their crops growing and their mother as healthy as she could be.
The whole village rejoiced and celebrated this momentous occasion. Never again did their crops diminish, nor did their water levels falter. Starvation was no longer a problem for as long as Yongwang and Samshin were alive, and they all—as they say—lived happily ever after.
When the couple finally passed away in old age, they were met with Hanla-halmi once more in the gates of the afterlife. As recognition and commendation for their noble deeds during mortality, she gave them a gift each. For Samshin, she was assigned the most dignified post as the Guardian of the Seocheon Flower Field, situated between life and the afterlife, where the most beautiful flowers holding immense power of life and death bloomed for eternity. For Yongwang, he was decreed the Dragon King and was given the power to rule over water and weather.
“And,” the God said, smiling widely at the Guardian of the Seocheon Flower Field and the Dragon King. “Descendants will henceforth possess a great power at their hands.”
And then she disappeared once more, leaving behind a single golden petal in her stead.
🌻
Two millenia later…
Queen Hwayoung would never forget the skies on the day she found out she was with child for a second time.
She had sent the nursemaid to inform her husband immediately as he had gone out for a morning stroll in their gardens, and had yet to return. As she waited, she stood out on the balcony from their grand master bedroom, one arm cradling little Crown Prince Junmyeon, the other resting on her belly, still as flat as it had been. But she knew now that a life was growing inside of her, and instead of the frenetic anxiety she felt when she was carrying Junmyeon, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. Perhaps it was the experience, the knowledge that she had gone through a pregnancy before and that she could do it again. But something else had settled inside her, something warm and soothing. Under the forget-me-not blue skies, she gazed out the palace courtyard, and felt as if something beautiful was happening.
As if he felt it too, little Junmyeon giggled, his tiny palms coming up and patting gently at his mother’s face.
“Yes,” she said. She smoothed a hand over her son’s wispy tuff of hair. His birthday was only last week, and he had just turned two years old. “You will be an older brother soon, Junmyeonnie.”
Little Junmyeon giggled again. She shifted his weight in her arms—he was getting heavier now as he grew, but it felt like just yesterday when he weighed three kilograms. He smacked his lips and gurgled out a word that sounded to “mom.”
Queen Hwayoung smiled, and she pinched gently at his cheek. “You will take care of them, won’t you?”
Junmyeon shrieked out a “yes,” his tiny fists flailing in excitement. She patted his little head and kissed his pudgy cheek.
Behind her, the door opened, and King Jaeyong walked into the room. Years of being king taught him to walk with purpose, and it was no different now, as he strode swiftly into the room and to her side. When he reached her, he leaned over and kissed her on both cheeks before taking Junmyeon out of her arms and pecking his forehead. Side-by-side, it was clear that Junmyeon had taken after his father’s features more than hers. Their eyes were the same—dark and piercing—and their mouths as well. He got her eyebrows, something Jaeyong had joked about being grateful for as the King had quite the eyebrows. But Hwayoung wouldn’t have minded. Junmyeon would have been perfect to her, no matter what.
She wondered who her second child would take after. Would they inherit her round eyes and round cheek? Her calm and serious demeanour? Or would they be like Junmyeon and Jaeyong, with their kind faces and precociousness?
Her husband stood by her side, cooing over his son as he waited for her to speak. The nurse must have informed him that she had quite serious news, or perhaps he sensed something in the way she was carrying herself, but she was grateful all at once for his unfailing patience with her. Although she was ecstatic about her pregnancy, it was not a planned one.
She took a deep breath and grasped at his hand, intertwining their fingers together. He looked at her, and squeezed at her hand gently.
“I’m pregnant.”
Hwayoung watched as her husband broke out in a smile, his eyes shining as he gripped at her hand.
“Are you really?” he asked. His eyes were curved into crescents from the force of his smile, and when she nodded, he pulled her into a kiss while cradling Junmyeon carefully into his chest. They embraced each other, relishing in the shared warmth. Between them, Junmyeon giggled once more and babbled excitedly. And for a few moments, as they took in the revelation, they stood there just like that, just the three of them, staring off into the calming blue skies.
🌻
Do Kyungsoo was born on January 12—a cool winter day that left the skies a murky grey and a chilly breeze that left your fingertips icy and teeth chattering. But for the royal family, the day could not have been any more perfect. Junmyeon was quite adept at walking now, his pudgy little legs pattering excitedly up to Hwayoung’s bedside where she rested on her comfiest pillows as she cradled the little prince to her chest. He was tiny and wrinkly, his face still red from screaming his little head off. But he was perfect.
Jaeyong stooped down and swept Junmyeon into his arms, and climbed onto the bed. “Junmyeon,” he whispered. “Meet your little brother. His name is Kyungsoo.”
“Kyungsoo!” Junmyeon yelled out. He reached his stubby arms out and made grabby motions towards the baby, frantic little motions that had both parents laughing in fondness. “Kyungsoo!”
“That’s right, his name is Kyungsoo. Take care of him well, Junmyeonnie. You’re his big brother now,” Hwayoung said. Her heart filled up as she watched Junmyeon lean in and smother a wet kiss onto Kyungsoo’s cheek. Kyungsoo scrunched his nose in response.
“My Kyungsoo!” Junmyeon said. He grabbed one of Kyungsoo’s balled up fists and stared, in awe, at how tiny he was even in comparison to himself. The baby was so small, little Junmyeon had no idea how Kyungsoo could be out in the world without getting smushed, and his eyes welled up at the thought. His parents rushed to soothe him, wiping his tears away as they made soft shushing noises. He wanted to explain his fears to them, but found he had no words to do so, and only cried harder as he held onto his little brother’s hand.
“Look at that, Hwayoung,” the King said as he gently rocked Junmyeon in his arms. “The kid is already acting like his little guardian.”
She looked at Jaeyong’s fond little smile as he wiped Junmyeon’s snotty nose, and at Kyungsoo’s tiny little features, and found herself smiling as an overwhelming love swept through her for her family.
🌻
As the Korean peninsula became increasing embroiled in the growing tensions between North and South Korea following the end of the Cold War merely two years prior, King Jaeyong and Queen Hwayoung found themselves increasingly occupied with the political affairs of the state. As a constitutional monarchy, they often had meetings with the executive and legislative branches of the government. Day in and day out, they met with various government officials and diplomats, working hard to reach solutions on how to handle the poor relations with North Korea.
Unlike when Junmyeon had been born, the King and Queen had found themselves with less time to spend during the day with little Prince Kyungsoo. Although it was to their greatest regret that Hwayoung often did not have the time to nurse him herself, they decided to fully invest in hiring household staff to tend to the two princes’ needs—particularly Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo was only a year old now, and was much smaller than Junmyeon had been at his age. It worried Hwayoung a little, to see her darling baby so tiny and fragile, but Jaeyong often assured her that he was well protected within the walls of the Royal Palace, where they resided within the capital city’s borders. Hwayoung had wanted to return to their property on Jeju Island—where she originally was from—thinking that the warmth of the island would be good for the family. But they had ties to Seoul now that could not be ignored, not above the rest of their duties.
It was under this unstable condition of the state that Choi Seungwon was hired on to care for the two little princes. He had undergone a heavy vetting process, and had sworn an oath to remain forever loyal to the state. Seungwon came heavily recommended from his previous position as a housekeeper for Duke Eunhyuk’s own household, and it was a role that he, himself, felt proud of.
Caring for the two boys came easy for him. Crown Prince Junmyeon was independent for his age, often taking initiative to take care of his little brother even though he was only two years older. He took his role as Kyungsoo’s older brother seriously, and loved babying the little prince. He was quite talkative at four years old and spent much of his time babbling incessantly at a quiet Kyungsoo who preferred to cuddle soft blankets and stuffed animals. They were both quite clingy, and it was not rare to find one next to the other, usually holding hands. Seungwon had quickly learned that the Queen was often quite worried about Kyungsoo, who was quite small for his age and much more quiet than Junmyeon had been. But he had been the main caretaker for all of Duke Eunhyuk’s five children and knew that it wasn’t any cause for concern yet, and that Kyungsoo would grow into his own.
On one particularly fine day, Junmyeon had begged Seungwon to let them play in the palace courtyard. He stamped his feet petulantly until Seungwon agreed. Chuckling in amusement, Seungwon slung the heavy diaper bag over his shoulder and strapped Kyungsoo into the Baby Bjorn on his chest. He grabbed Junmyeon’s small hand in one hand and, together, they headed out the door. The courtyard in question was located in the centre of the complex, much further away from any potential unwanted visitors who could come in around the perimetre of the property, and Seungwon decided it would be a nice enough treat to himself, and to the boys, to take one of the slightly longer routes through his favourite garden.
The garden was located closest to the south wing of the property, and even in the winter, it was absolutely breathtaking. The glossy pinks and reds of Japanese camellia lined the paved path that winded through the barren branches of gingko trees, brightening up the castle. Fairy lights were strung up along the branches, and their warm glow made the winter feel all the more welcoming. In the centre of the garden was a small pond filled with Koi and a gazebo with heated seats. On the drier days of winter, before the snow hits Seoul too hard, Seungwon always enjoyed taking the boys there. If it was a particularly good day, he would even treat Junmyeon to his special homemade hot chocolate—Kyungsoo was far too young still.
A whine came from Kyungsoo, breaking Seungwon out from his musings. The baby gurgled a little, and his tiny hands curled into little fists, and then his whines suddenly turned into loud crying as tears rolled down his chubby little face. His heart-shaped lips, inherited from the Queen, were twisted in displeasure. Seungwon fumbled for the diaper bag. The only time the young prince ever cried that loudly was when he was hungry.
He felt a tugging coming from his left as Junmyeon shook his hand urgently. “Mister Seungwon, Kyungsoo is hungry!” he shouted.
“I know, just a second, please,” he said patiently. He must have been too careless when he was packing the diaper bag earlier, because the zipper was now caught. He tugged forcefully at the zipper, trying to ease it back open so he could grab the bottle he had prepared for Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo’s cries grew louder, and Junmyeon shook his hand again. “Mister!” he cried.
“I know, I know,” he said placatingly. He tugged at the zipper again, this time adding more pressure. It budged slightly before getting stuck again. Seungwon cursed in his head, pulling at the zipper again and again, until finally, it gave and the bag unzipped. “Finally—”
But before Seungwon could finish his sentence, one of the buckles on the baby carrier suddenly came undone from the jostling and the straps loosened from its hold around Kyungsoo. As if in slow motion, Seungwon watched in dawning horror as Kyungsoo slipped from the baby carrier and fell sharply towards the paved road underneath his feet, his cries hitting at a higher and louder pitch that Seungwon had never heard from the baby before. Instant images flashed through his mind, of what the aftermath of what a sharp fall would mean for a baby, fear striking deep inside him and rattling his bones from his core, his mind thrown into a whirlwind of oh god the blood, the baby, no, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t breathe, and he jumped forward as his heart leaped into his throat, a sharp cry leaving him, as he scrabbled clumsily to try and catch the baby, and he could hear, too, that Junmyeon was screaming next to him, but his hands only swept uselessly at the air—it was too late, he couldn’t catch Kyungsoo, he had reacted too late, too slow, and now Kyungsoo was falling, and falling, and falling—
—and then to Seungwon’s amazement, he watched as the ground underneath cracked open and green vines slithered through the gaps like snakes, reaching as high as Seungwon’s knees. Small buds grew on the vines, and within seconds, they bloomed into beautifully vibrant red flowers. As if they had minds of their own, the vines interlocked with each other, forming a thick and dense canopy of flowers that was the size of a cot, if not bigger.
Kyungsoo landed safely in the bed of flowers without bouncing off, cradled by the red petals and vines that strangely seemed to support him off the ground.
Seungwon gaped at the scene. It had all happened so fast—it took only seconds—and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He stood there in shock. Junmyeon reacted immediately, and ran towards his younger brother, hugging him close to his chest as he sobbed loudly. But Kyungsoo only giggled, no trace of tears in his face, as his hands grabbed at the vines underneath him. His cheeks bunched up as he smiled happily, seemingly at home from his perch within the blooming flowers. And at a closer glance, Seungwon realized that they were Japanese camellias, the same flowers that made this particular garden unique.
Finally, he snapped out of his daze and ran towards the two boys. He checked over Kyungsoo for any injuries, any signs that he was less than okay, but there were no traces of the danger he was in just seconds before. With disbelief, Seungwon swept them both into his arms, his heart still racing and he suddenly realized how clammy he was. His shirt was sticking to his back, and his palms were sweaty, but he ignored it all as he pressed Kyungsoo and Junmyeon close to his chest to calm his own uneven heartbeat. Junmyeon was still crying, calling out his parents’ names desperately as he clung to his younger brother, but Kyungsoo only seemed confused at the situation.
Seungwon didn’t understand what had happened. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen. It was…it was like magic, the way the flowers grew so suddenly, but magic wasn’t real. But he didn’t allow himself time to dwell on it further, gathering both boys up into his arms and quickly carrying them back inside the palace. Their safety was his priority, and being outside didn’t feel as safe anymore. He took them into their shared bedroom and sat them both on Junmyeon’s bed, where Kyungsoo flopped onto his belly and began tugging at his sobbing brother’s toes. He tried his best to comfort the inconsolable boy, but he, too, felt as lost and confused as the Crown Prince was.
Later that day, Seungwon relayed the garden incident to Queen Hwayoung and King Jaeyong. They were horrified of the situation, and immediately called upon the Royal Doctor to check on their children. After they made sure that their sons were both safe, Junmyeon finally calming down in his parents’ arms, it was late. Usually, Seungwon would be in bed, but the King and Queen requested that he joined them in their office. They sat Seungwon down and explained to him the legend of Samshin and Yongwang. It was a legend he heard before, one of the many folktales that his mom used to tell him when he was growing up.
Hwayoung sipped at her tea, setting the cup back down on the table with a quiet clink. She looked into Seungwon’s eyes, assessing him slowly. She exchanged a glance with her husband before seeming to come to a decision. “I’m a descendant of Samshin and Yongwang.”
For the second time that day, Seungwon found himself dumbfounded. “What?”
“Of course it has been many generations, and the line has long become diluted. But I am a descendant of Samshin and Yongwang. The magic they were gifted—it’s all real.”
“Then, the flowers from today. That was all Kyungsoo?” Seungwon asked. He had a hard time comprehending what the Queen was telling him.
Hwayoung nodded. “I believe so. The magic doesn’t manifest in everyone with blood ties to the legend. My great-grandmother was the only person I knew who had this power. Neither me nor Junmyeon, it seems, have been gifted. But Kyungsoo, it must have manifested because his life was threatened today.”
“What exactly can he do with his powers?”
“Generally speaking, he has control over all plants. But from what my great-grandmother taught me, the capabilities and limitations depends on the person. My great-grandmother, she was only able to grow flowers out of nothing, much like Kyungsoo did today. But I’ve had ancestors who were capable of much, much more. As Kyungsoo grows older, he will learn what he can do.”
Seungwon mulled her words over in his mind, silent as he took the time to process what she was telling him. From what he remembered, the version of the legend that his mother told him had left Samshin with the ability to grow flowers that could decide between one’s life or death when consumed. In another version he had heard over the years, Samshin was given the ability to grant even immortality through her flower field. Even confronted with the possibilities of all this, Seongwon could not believe it. Magic…existed. Magic was real, and he witnessed it firsthand today.
“What can we do to support him, then?” he asked.
But the Queen only smiled wistfully. “There’s not much more we can do but to love him and teach him what we can. I have tomes that have been passed through my family for generations, and that will help him understand himself more. But it’s more important for us to protect him, to guide him in being kind and good.” She explained the dangers of exposing the truth about Kyungsoo’s abilities to the world, and her fears about the kinds of people it would attract. It was to be kept a secret.
Seungwon nodded. He could understand their fears well.
A month later, Seungwon received his monthly letter from his brother, Siwon. As they were twins, they had always been close growing up. But they had less time to meet now, as Siwon worked as a baker in a smaller town on the outskirts of the city. They tried calling each other on the landline when they could, but their schedules did not line up easily. He read over the letter quickly, detailing the most recent events in his brother’s life, and was dismayed to find out that they were mostly negative. It seemed as though his bakery wasn’t doing well; business was often slow and much of his bread had to be tossed out at the end of the day. His brother had always been the ambitious sort. Maybe a little greedy, but Seungwon saw it as evidence of his commitment to succeeding in life. He had dropped much of his life’s expenses on starting the bakery in his entrepreneurial pursuits, and it looked as though it wasn’t paying off.
I hope the tides turn for me soon. I pray you have more positive and exciting things to talk about to lift my spirits, Seungwon, his brother wrote.
Seungwon grabbed a piece of stationary and a pen and began writing his letter.
I’m sorry to hear that business has been poor. I can try and send you some extra funds to pad your wallet and bank a little more, but there’s not much more I can do, and for that, I’m really sorry. I’m sure you will get your lucky break soon! You have worked hard and perhaps business is only slow for now as we recover from the Cold War. I have faith in you, Siwon, and in your business.
Work has been going well for me. The two boys are growing up well. Junmyeon has been quite clingy towards Kyungsoo lately—even clingier than normal, if you can believe—and Kyungsoo has been babbling a bit more. He’s been more excitable lately, which pleases the Queen greatly. They’re both adorable and well-behaved, although Junmyeon is slightly more prone to throwing tantrum. He’s a good older brother though, and will often refuse to eat until he sees Kyungsoo is being fed as well. He shares well, which is amazing, because I remember you were always the worst when it cames to sharing toys when we were growing up. His parents have been instilling good values in them both already, and even though they’re so young, I think they will be good kids. As their main caretaker amongst the household staff, I bear a lot of responsibility for their care so I hope I will do a good job as well.
Actually, to tell you the truth, we had quite the scare last month. I don’t know what happened or how, but I was taking the kids for a walk through one of the gardens one day and the clasps on the baby carrier came undone. I can’t even use words to describe how terrified it was, watching Kyungsoo free-fall from where he was held up against my chest. A million images had flashed through my mind, all of them bloodier than the last…I can feel myself sweating just thinking about it again. I hope to never experience a moment like that again. Thank God, though, thank God because Kyungsoo somehow survived the fall without so much as a scratch. He seems okay now…but poor Junmyeon still gets nightmares about it sometimes. We tossed out the carrier immediately, but I worry a little about it happening again…
I…shouldn’t be telling you this either, but I know I can trust you and we have always told each other things in confidence. But you know those stories that mom used to tell us about the The Guardian of the Seocheon Flower Field and the Dragon King? Those old folktales that she learned from the local shaman in her village? They’re…they’re true. It’s real. I know it’s going to sound fake saying this, but I saw it with my own eyes. Kyungsoo saved himself that day, although I don’t think I should give any more details. He’s truly incredible…
He quickly finished off his letter with a few more updates and ended with some comforting words. Seungwon hesitated as he folded the letter into threes and stuffed it into an envelope to be sent out. Should he be telling his brother about Kyungsoo? It went directly against what the Queen had asked of him. But he thought the news would be exciting to his brother, who always loved hearing the stories more than he did, and his brother sorely needed some cheering up in his life. He could trust Siwon to keep it a secret. Besides, he would cut off his own foot before he let harm come to the princes’ way, anyway.
🌻
A few months later, Seungwon had received a call urging his immediate presence outside of the castle. The same day, Prince Kyungsoo disappeared from his room.
Neither of them were ever seen again.