(970 AD, 21^st year of Gwangjong’s reign)

“Soel, are you in here?” asked a familiar voice softly. Soel lifted her head up and opened to respond but a flurry of sobs threatened to overwhelm her. How long had it been since she found refuge in this remote corner of the library behind the book shelves? She was cooped up against the wall, her arms wound tightly around her bent legs and her head buried between her knees. The self-imposed numbness wore away at the sound of the voice and Soel was once again assailed by the memory she had been trying to block. The memory of sneaking around the palace and witnessing a scene that she was never meant to see. Of people – young and old, men and women – tied to blocks, struggling against the bonds on their hands and feet. Of feeling equal parts awe and horror as over 50 swords came swinging down in unison in practiced synchrony, as the grunts of the executioners mixed with the swelling shrieks of the terrified victims like a morbid symphony reaching its crescendo. Then, the silence - the deafening silence broken only by the sound of blood spraying, then gurgling and then gushing out of limp torsos, seeping into the snow and spreading rapidly on all sides. The blood seemed to have a life of its own, moving organically, merging together at places and leaving patches of white at others. For someone watching from a distance who didn’t know what had transpired there, the blood soaked snow would have looked like an eerie painting. Soel had covered with her hand to stop herself from screaming hysterically and ran with all her might to escape the horror, looking for some place, any place where she could be alone. Since reaching her hide-out, she had gone through a cycle of anguish. It started with revulsion for what she had witnessed followed by embarrassment for being a coward. She grieved for the dead and then felt ashamed of grieving for traitors while at the same time feeling horrified at being ashamed of her own compassion.

Struggling to banish the memories from her thoughts, Soel tried to stand up and grabbed a book shelf to steady herself. The movement sent a cluster of books crashing to the floor. Dust rose from the ground and from the books that fell to the ground. Crown prince Ju came around to investigate the crash and sighed in relief when he saw her. “What have you been doing here? Uncle Jung is turning the palace upside down looking for you. Let’s go”, he said as he strode down towards her. Soel’s voice trembled as she shook her head in panic and Ju was startled to see tears well up in her red and swollen eyes. Her hair was disheveled and her entire face was tear-stained with brown lines in places where dust had settled on the tear tracks. Soel covered her face in desperation as she sank back to the floor. Ju watched in stunned silence as she hugged her knees and rested her forehead on her knees, her shoulders shaking with her silent sobs. He sat down on the floor next to her and asked gently, “What happened?” It took a while for Soel to compose herself enough to convey in bits and pieces that she had witnessed the latest in the series of purges ordered by the King, to execute noblemen and their families accused of treason. Ju listened patiently and patted her gently on her back as she struggled to put her emotions into words. “I’m not sure how I should feel when the King – my father – is committing mass-murder. Should I be horrified at the loss of so many lives or as someone with the blood of the King flowing through my veins, should I be strong enough to take this in my stride and walk away without making a fuss? A princess shouldn’t be flipping out over the death of traitors, right? But here I am, cowering in a corner, a sobbing, whimpering mess. At the same time, is it so wrong to mourn the loss of all those lives, snuffed out in an instant - their futures, their dreams, their joys, their tears, all wiped out in that one moment, lost forever?”

Soel looked at Ju with pleading eyes, hoping that he could tell her what to do. Ju wrapped his arm around her back and drew her close as he said softly, “It’s okay. It’s alright. You’ll get through this.” Soel relaxed her hands that were wound tightly around her knees and rested her head against his shoulder, seeking comfort in his words, hoping that things could go back to the way they were, that she could go back to the way she was. “I’ve been hiding here because I dread running into Uncle So”, Soel confessed. “I’m afraid that when I look at him, I will see swinging swords covered in blood and hear heartrending screams; that I will never be able to laugh with him or share a joke with him without feeling pangs of guilt for snatching away the joys and dreams of so many others to build our own. More than anything else, I’m terrified that, in my panic, I might say or do something that will hurt him deeply.”

Soel’s words stirred memories that Ju had buried deep inside, ones that he did not like to think about, much less talk about.  “I was around 5 years old when all of this started” he said as he leaned his head against the wall. “Back then, I didn’t really know much about what was happening or who was dying and why. I remember that my mother looked worried. She was tying up my hair but her hands were trembling so much that she couldn’t get it right no matter how many times she tried. That was when dad came storming in, sword in hand and demanded to know whether mom had been in cohorts with the traitors. He accused her of wanting to get rid of him and put me on the throne. I hid behind my mother and peeked out, wary of the sword that he held, ready to strike without a moment’s notice. My most terrifying memory of that night though is not the sword. It’s his eyes – cold, ruthless, vigilant - watching my mother’s every move, scrutinizing her every word, judging her on the spot and deciding our fate – hers and mine”, he recounted with a faraway look in his eyes. Soel sat up straight and turned to face Ju. “I could see it in his eyes - that if my mother said one wrong word or made one wrong move, he’d slash us down without hesitation. But my mother didn’t flinch. She stood tall and spoke calmly, rationally, about how she couldn’t hurt her husband and even if she could, it wouldn’t be in her interest to get rid of him when her son was not even old enough to rule.” A lone tear escaped from the corner of his eye and he quickly sat up and turned his face away to hide it. Wiping it away with the back of his hand, he continued, “Anyway, it was a long time ago. What I was trying to say was that, I got through it and so will you.” “But you still avoid your father”, Soel pointed out. “But you are different. You will find a way to reach out to him”, he assured her. As she continued to look unsure, he took her hands in his and said with a smile, “But there is something else you need to do first. You need to go find Uncle Jung and let him know you are alright.” As Soel’s eyes widened in panic again, Ju squeezed her hands and continued, “Just tell him that you are not feeling well and want to sleep early.” He stood up and pulled her up with him. “Then go to your room, lock the door, sneak out and meet met near the west gate.” “Eh?” asked Soel in shock. “Wear something warm…. The warmest clothes you have……” With that he let go of her hand and walked away with a smile without waiting for a response. But half-way to the door, he turned around and instructed a dazed Soel, “By the way, clean up your face before you meet anyone. It’s getting dark outside and……. let’s not overwork the grim reapers any more today.”