June Hur

To those who have dared to be a beacon of light in the bleakest of moments

We mortals exist for but a season, and yet we love as though we are bound by eternity

“The title Muwonrok comes from mu, for ‘elimination,’ and won, for ‘great sorrow,’” he explained, completely ignoring my frustration. “As stated by the title, the Muwonrok is a treatise on how to eliminate great sorrow among the people. I hope that in studying this book, you will also understand that there is nothing more important than a human life, for there is no punishment greater than death. If you are going to investigate with me, I cannot have you rashly leaping to conclusions and judgments, rushing off into reckless action. Great care must be exercised in the collecting and recording of evidence, for anything—even the absence thereof—could be critical in establishing the facts. If we are to work together, I thought you should know this.”

“The path we are to take will be littered with death. Freedom will always come at a cost.”

My mother was killed right before my eyes, and I ran away. I watched my father be executed while I hid on the hillside. What can we do but watch when the king shows his wrath? We are not generals with a thousand soldiers behind us. We were but mere children, you and I. We were wholly unprepared for such cruelty.

Strength quickly drained from my legs. I collapsed onto my hands and knees. My parents had died for one man’s greed. They had died for nothing.

“Wonsik’s son. It is the sobriquet I gave him.” I continued to trace, wanting to hear his voice again. “Wonsik was suspicious of his son for a reason. Crow might have known about the bloody message…” At some point, I no longer knew what I was even
saying, my thoughts elsewhere. And when I looked down, I stilled, realizing I had traced out his name.

대현

대현

대현

“It’s not you who are tarnished, but them! The king, his chehongsa officers, the coup leaders—anyone who would think to blame you for their crimes! They are the ones who should be ashamed!”

Scratching his head, Yeongho glanced over his shoulder, then stared at me again. “I saw Wonsik’s son among the men … He was asking them if they had seen me—” If realization had a sound, I heard it then; a sickening click. “You know who I am?”

Young Daehyun had not known that the prophecy of his death would not be a story of how his life would end, but of how it would begin.