Sungjong supported the woman’s weight with a cuddle as they were leaned up against the cherry blossom’s bod. The casting of the peaceful tree’s shadow shielded them from the sun’s reach and kept them cool. Around them, the calm breeze was soothing as it brushed against his black attire and her bloody white dress.

Some of his non-pigmented strands strewed over the dying lass’s thin dark hair as he cradled her underneath him. His wintry, rounded eyes were arrested by the hairpin in her motionless half-opened palm, revealing more of the color red. Though he was no stranger to war and a witness of bloodbaths, Sungjong was still shaken by the fluid now stained on her milky skin.

It pained him to know that those hands—painted in her own blood—were never going to hold onto him again. Never will they help nor comfort him ever again.

Close to him, her fading breaths caught his full attention as she pled, “Forgive him...forgive me. The pin in my hand. Please be happy with her,” her statements were short and choppy but sadly he understood them all too clearly. And though he loved her gentle and melody-like voice, he hated every word she uttered.

Sungjong gulped down the harsh words he wanted to say. Even up to her last breath she remained irritably selfless. He hated her, the angel, who made a difference in his life; he loathed that she was awaiting and willing to accept death—prepared to leave him behind. But most of all he hated himself. She was slipping through his fingers and he cannot save her. The lad pushed her hair behind one ear as he whispered, “I love you, Lady Yoona.”

A frail smile was drawn across her face as she patted him on the arm, “I love you more my Jong...”

When she trailed off he knew that she was gone. Her open wounds have robbed her of her life. Any suffering has come to an end. He resented her departure but was proud of her. For a first timer, she has endured the pain well.

The tears he had been holding back began to well up and flowed out of his control. Tightly he gripped onto her clothes and flesh as if doing so would bring her back. Soft whimpers escape his peach lips as he rocked her side to side. Meanwhile, three bystanders watched from a distance. A blonde woman in similar black wear was protected on either side by two taller dark hair males. “It appears she’s gone,” said the younger man of the pair.

Unlike the other with a nasal voice, the higher pitched one chimed in casually, “Lady Hyoyeon, should we inform young master—” the woman cut him off with a shake of her head.

“Even if he’s aware he wouldn’t acknowledge our small victory. Not during a time like this,” there was a pause before she came up with an excuse to dismiss them both, “I will watch him, you two return to the heart of the city and prepare everyone for the next battle. Our new destination is our enemy’s front door.” She received nods from both men before reminding them, “Check to be sure that every injury are tended to and fixed. No injured man will be forced into battle.”

“Yes Lady Hyoyeon,” the duo answered simultaneously before leaving her unguarded. Now that it was much quieter, Hyoyeon could fully examine the depressing scene unfolding before her. Standing idly by, her heart ached, she watched her betrothed pressed his lips against the lifeless woman’s. It has always been clear that the mourner was not interested in her, but even then her dying father forced their hands.

Sungjong wasn’t only the son her father never had but he was also the last living apprentice out of five—the youngest and more intelligent one at that. Kicking rocks, Hyoyeon observed from a safe range. The man’s face was now buried in the half-Japanese’s chest as he lies on top of her. His shoulders were shaking profusely.

Even from afar she could tell that he was crying. The last time she witnessed him in tears was when they were twelve and he failed to complete one of the tasks her father have assigned him. The memory of a scrawny, shirtless boy hiding his teary eyes behind his arm was still fresh in Hyoyeon’s mind. But even the fond recollection wouldn’t bring a smile to her face.

For a while, she left the couple alone—at the top of the hill as she left to retrieve a shovel. As soon as the Sun’s disk sunk behind the horizon and Sungjong dead asleep, Hyoyeon got to work. For the lad and everyone’s sake, it was best to put the lady to rest. Alongside Hyoyeon, the two men have returned to help her. As they placed Yoona’s body into the wooden coffin, with her hands clapped over each other, they sealed it shut but waited for Hyoyeon’s signal.

A hint of guilt ate at Hyoyeon when she glanced Sungjong’s direction. The image of the white-haired—left to lay on his stomach—remained unconscious, with the hairpin dropped near the crown of his head. With this knowledge, Hyoyeon instigated the two to lower the coffin into the grave. Once the casket was perfectly set down, the trio urgently inhumed it.

 

When night arrived, the of Sungjong’s nightmare woke him up to the comfort of his own bed. The familiar hickory wallpaper and odorless room welcomed his presence silently but also reminded him that he didn’t belong. Memories of earlier events sat him up so fast that it dizzied and forced him to crawl at his forehead momentarily. He squeezed his eyes shut hoping the beating in his head would subside. But before he could outrun an increasing headache, the voice of another caught him by surprise. “Can we talk if you’re sane?”

The sitter opened one eye and peeked across the room—standing by the door was the woman, Hyoyeon, with her arms folded over her chest and wearing a stern expression. For someone who had lost many loved ones, Hyoyeon wasn’t fully expecting the man’s cooperation. So when he questioned her instead of answering her, she kept her composure.

“Where’s Yoona? Why am I here?” the man’s tone came out harsher than he had intended it to. He knew the woman was not responsible for the death of the lass nor was she to compensate his emotions, but he was suddenly impatient.

“Buried,” before the man could snap at her the woman proceeded, “I didn’t trust that you’d let her go so I made the decision to put her to—”

Annoyed and appalled by her response he interjected immediately, “What rights do you have? Who gave you permission? She’s mine. Where did you bury her—”

Rather than backing down and allowing regret to take over, she brushed his growing anger off as if it was unwanted dust, “I did, I gave the permission. It was my rights as your fiancee, your to-be-wife.” There was a pause as she exhaled heavily, trying not to raise her voice, “I’ve held it in long enough. For six months I’ve stayed out of your affairs. Even I supported your relationship with the daughter of our enemy, specifically my nemesis; the man who killed my father. I even let you get as close to him as calling him father-in-law but now that she’s dead, it’s time you wake up.”

Sungjong glared her direction, but he could see that she wasn’t the least bothered by it. Under his breath and in a soft growl he muttered, “You dare tell me what to do. It was my mistake. I shouldn’t have initiated this revolution. I shouldn’t have tried to avenge master’s death and I shouldn’t have ever put you beside me.”

Hyoyeon flattened her eyes and closed her hands into two hard fists, “Spoken like a coward. I will never understand what father saw in you. You may be a little more experienced in war plans and making accurate calculations but you were never the man father wanted you to be. You’re nothing but a coward.” The brassy she sounded the more she thought he’d react, but as if he was a dead man walking the lad turned away from her slowly and closed his eyes. If he was a train he’d be venting steamy hot air by now.

For a brief moment, he murmured, “I’ll ask again for the last time. Where is she?”

Hyoyeon broke the folding of her arms and dropped them to her side, with a hefty scoff she uttered, “By that tree, you lovebirds cared for so much,” this time she took a stomp toward the man, “Lee Sungjong, you started this revolution. If you want to opt out now then say it! I will take over, I will avenge my father and the lives of my people! You pathetic person,” she spat before leaving the room in a hurried manner. As she slammed the door shut, the lass bit down on her lips. Recalling the look in his dispirited eyes, she knew she could no longer rely on him. Not if she wished to win the war. With a heavy sigh and watery eyes, she clutched her fists and left the area.

After the woman was gone, Sungjong noticed the hairpin that was set beside his pillow. After retrieving it with a hint of guilt he examined it mildly, Yoona’s blood was still present and a string of her hair was caught around the sky-blue flower—made out of jade to decorate the dull golden pin. He traced the pin’s smooth surface as the lady’s words ring in his ears.

“Please be happy with her.”

He knew fairly well that 'her' was Hyoyeon, but how could she expect that from him? His heart had stopped beating along with hers earlier that day. So how can he easily move on and be happy? Before he could answer any of those questions a knock came to his door. In a millisecond a voice called out to him. “Young master Sungjong, may I enter?”

“Come in,” Sungjong said calmly as he tucked the hairpin away into his clothes. Once the door was open he met the gaze of a concerned fellow warrior. The tall and stickly man entered the room quickly and shut the door behind him, then he whirled around to face the younger man he referred to as young master.

“How are you feeling?” the man was slightly bent over as he crawled toward Sungjong’s bedside. Then carefully he squatted down beside the sitter and was all ears.

“Lady Yoona,” Sungjong choked a little before continuing, “was the landlord’s only daughter. He must be remorseful at this time,”

The newcomer lifted a brow quizzically, “Young master you mustn’t sympathize with that foul soul. If he was capable of any remorse he wouldn’t have attacked his own daughter—” the man stopped himself when Sungjong shook his head in disagreement.

“I must Sungyeol. He may be our enemy but today he and I both lost a very important person, Lady Yoona.” Sungjong spoke so softly that his company had to lean in to hear him, “And it was due to our carelessness that she’s no longer with us. She was the bridge between us and them…. But no matter how hard she tried to unite us, we just..just kept abusing her existence. We used her, stepped all over her, and ignored her feelings. How can I be so cruel?”

It was times like these that Sungyeol wished Hyoyeon was in the room instead of him. Even though the second-in-command often speaks harshly, at least she would straighten Sungjong out. “...Young master...,”

“I shouldn’t have started this. I regret standing up and leading our people. I shouldn’t have promised everyone a bright future. A future free of Japanese rule and order. I wish someone else has done it instead of me. Why did I have to meet and fall for Lady Yoona after I’ve started everything? What have I done to deserve such punishment?”

Sungyeol has never seen the man so emotional before. Sure, Sungjong blamed himself for his parents, older brother, fellow apprentices, and master’s death but it was the first time he was in so much sorrow. “Young master. Everything happens for a reason. There is a reason why you met Lady Yoona after becoming our leader. There is a purpose why it had to be you Lady Yoona came to know. If she were to have met someone like me or Myungsoo, it would be of no help to us or to her. You should stop blaming yourself, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know that Lady Yoona was going to jump in front of you when that man attacked you. You’re innocent, just like Lady Yoona.”

A scoff escape Sungjong’s dried lips as he turned to face the other, “Do me a favor Sungyeol,”

The taller moved closer to the latter, “Yes young master?”

“Night has fallen, she must be afraid as she is alone out there. In the middle of nowhere. I should be keeping her company. You, inform Hyoyeon and everyone that I’m canceling the rebellion,” as Sungyeol tried to get a reasonable explanation out of Sungjong, the white-haired moved fast as he got up and off his bed in one quick swing. Puzzled by his new commands Sungyeol found himself unable to stand and chase after the other, so instead, he screamed for him. But even when his voice became hoarse Sungjong did not stop to wait for him.

 

Hyoyeon was in the middle of discussing future plans with four men—including her most trusted companion, Kim Myungsoo—in a tent when a panicked Sungyeol arrived, drowned in his own sweat. Though he was panting hard, the lad still tried to speak, “It’s, it’s you-young master….Young master Sungjong sa-said to stop,” Sungyeol took a deep breath, “he wants us to stop the re-rebellion.”

With all five frowns on him, Myungsoo was the first to react verbally, “What nonsense—what do you mean he wants us to stop the rebellion?” At first the handsome man’s voice started out normally then it rose in volume. “Has he gone completely mad over that woman’s death?”

Sungyeol scowled at the speaker, “Hey, watch what you say. You may not serve him personally but he’s still your leader too—”

This time Hyoyeon jumped in to silence the two, “There were no flaws in what he had said. We’ve come this far, we cannot fall back now. If we do the enemy will use this event against us in the future. You all stay here. I will confront Sungjong,” before the lass could take another step, Sungyeol stopped her.

“Young master left already. Please, Lady Hyoyeon, for young master’s sake don’t anger him. I hate the Japanese as much as you do but please try to listen to him.”

Rather than wasting any more time with a mere bodyguard, Hyoyeon exited the tent and headed directly for the hill. After a long walk under the dead night sky, Hyoyeon arrived at the hilltop. To her surprise, Sungjong and the tree looked oddly lonely and empty without the Japanese lady. Despite her hatred toward Yoona and her people, Hyoyeon admits the princess’s presence always lit up every atmosphere.

She became and was the only light to Sungjong’s darkness.

As the woman approached her target, she came to a stop just inches before him. Without a word, she dropped a drawn sword in front of Sungjong. The three feet long metal object reflected the moon’s light over the man’s eyes, blinding and capturing his gaze for a brief second. He then leaned back just enough to escape the radiance. Glaring skyward at the confident posture, he heaved a heavy sigh. “Didn’t Sungyeol relied my message? Why are you here instead of terminating everything and seeing that everyone gets home safely?”

The woman smirked, “Are you truly that foolish? If we halt the battle now, do you really think there would be any homes left for our people? Specifically any ‘safe’ homes,” her husky voice carried a hint of sarcasm and disbelief. “I followed you here not because I wanted to interrupt your time with the deceased, but I came to tell you that unless I die we will see the end of those Japanese. So,” Hyoyeon poked the sword with her foot, “if you want us to stop you’ll have to kill me here and now.”

“I thought you were mature but in front of Lady Yoona and I you dare speak ill?” Sungjong uttered in disgust.

“It’s like you’re absentminded. I only tolerated her because she wasn’t biased. It has never escaped my mind that she is related to the other side.” The blonde crossed her arms over her s, “This is your only and last chance to stop me, otherwise don’t get in my way. As long as you stay still everyone will continue to hope and find faith in you. You wouldn’t want to upset everyone would you?”

“Stop it,” Sungjong said as he diverted his gaze, “don’t make it harder. Not everyone is bloodthirsty like you,” his voice was low and soft; he didn’t intend to be spiteful.

She scoffed at his statement, “Haven’t you heard? The harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. Besides, in war, if you’re not bloodthirsty can you win? If that doesn’t drive you then what will?”

As expected he eyeballed her with a hateful look, “You’re doing this because you know I can’t hurt you. But if only death can stop you then pardon me,” Sungjong stretched out his arm and seized the sword by its grip. Once he lifted up the weapon, it reminded him the reasons why he was always unarmed. Swords and any artifacts for that matter were always too heavy for his liking. Plus that weight that he has to carry—to burden another’s flesh with it was not ideally humane.

Sungjong straighten his back meanwhile fastening his hold around the grip, “In front of Lady Yoona, I will stop you.”

The woman cocked her head to the side, “Pathetic,” then in a matter of seconds she broke her standing pose and naturally replaced it with a self-defense stance. Her palms were exposed and both pointed in opposite directions, her calm expression hardens and she was focused. Compare to her, Sungjong lack battle instincts and experiences with physical confrontations. If anything he was just tactical; a trait Lady Yoona admired about him.

The thin man raised the sword up to eye level until saw his own reflection from the corner of his eyes. To deliver accessible, clean swings Sungjong had both hands locked around the sword. He gulped a little to ease his nervousness. Then as he waves the deadly weapon over his head, he breathed in heavily through his nostril before he charged at the woman.

While he plowed the ground beneath them running her direction; she already predicted three of his first moves. The first swing was intended for her skull, the second her chest as he re-hefted the sword, and the last—a vital stab through her abdomen.

Though she was flabbergasted by his attacks; out of habit she skillfully stopped his strikes. Somehow while managed to avoid the blade she had his wrists arrested in between her paws. Roughly she felt the breeze in his sleeves. As for Sungjong, he didn’t want her to remove her warm grasps.

Immediately they locked gazes and for the first time, Sungjong saw tears welling up in her eyes. Even when her father, his master, was assassinated during a brawl she shed no tears. He knew she must have cried her heart out elsewhere after the burial but never with him around. After twenty-five years she finally revealed her sentimental side.

“Why must it be her?” she questioned under a whisper. Her voice was blue. “Someone once told me that no matter where we are or where we’ll go, everyone has someone they will willingly give everything up for. I,” she stopped to lower her gaze and take in a deep breath, “I was hurt. I didn’t want to believe that she was your special person,” a small smile glowed on Hyoyeon’s face for the first time in a long time as she looks up again, “You know I’m selfish.”

Sungjong was trying to process all that she was saying. Because for as long as he knew, they were only buddies. ‘No strings attached’ as they’d state to one another. Besides, Sungjong was not Hyoyeon’s type. Or was he?

“What are you trying to say?” Sungjong built up the courage to ask.

There and then he felt her hands moving away before they returned to her side, “For my father, your fallen fellow apprentices, and our people you commenced this revolution, but time has changed. You want to end something you’ve started. For the first time tonight I think I can understand that feeling. When I gave you the sword, I didn’t think you would really attack me. Not because you couldn’t but because you wouldn’t. But after seeing it, seeing you sway at me because you wanted to stop, I realized that I wanted it to end too. Not the war but this,” Hyoyeon glimpsed toward the metal blade, “I shouldn’t have confronted you. To force you into a corner with no options just because of my selfishness. However, what I’ve said still stands. Only my death can stop us from pursuing this dream you’ve painted for us.”

“Hyoyeon I—” the man cuts himself off. Keeping quiet sounded like a better idea than lying to her at the moment. He couldn’t comfort her because he couldn’t grant her her wishes.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it easier for you,” without another sound she moved closer to him. Easily she slipped her hands and arms around Sungjong’s waist as she rested her chin on his shoulder. With his height, she was forced to look up a little. In the night sky, the stars smiled and waved to her. And momentarily she thought she saw her father’s face in the air. The Asian man revealed a dimple then nodded to her. Voiceless the image faded and Hyoyeon was left to remember the warmth of Sungjong’s body.

She chuckled shortly. For such a small guy, he was quite warm.

Then slowly she reached into her own sleeve and drawn a knife strapped to her forearm. “It may sicken your Lady Yoona to see this but I promise, I will ask for her forgiveness in the afterlife,”

The male’s eyes widen but it was too late for him to realize what Hyoyeon had done.

An icky noise raided his hearing; metal piercing through flesh, bursting blood vessels, and the smell of blood traveled near him. Instantly he released the sword and was able to catch a falling Hyoyeon. His jaw dropped when he saw a knife pressed into her neck. Her eyes were red and eerily opened. Her breathing was faint, Sungjong grew scared. He hugged her tightly and together he lowered them to the ground.

“Lady Hyoyeon!” it was the voice of Myungsoo. In a matter of seconds, Myungsoo and Sungyeol surrounded them. Myungsoo, in particular, got onto his knees as he oversees Hyoyeon’s motionless body in horror. Uncertain of how to touch her, his hands tangled and shook over her. “Lady Hyoyeon! No! You cannot die!”

Sungyeol who had stopped a few pace away stayed back, “What in the world happen?” he mumbled.

After some more heart-wrenching shouting Myungsoo fought Sungjong for custody of the lady’s body. He wrapped his two arms around the woman and pulled her body close to his, then he cried and screamed. Dumbstruck still, Sungjong froze on the spot as his gaze lingered on the pair before him.

An hour before the sun would greet Korea again, Sungjong and Sungyeol stood facing a spiritless Myungsoo with Lady Hyoyeon, in a fetus position, in his arms. “What are you going to do with Lady Hyoyeon’s body?” Sungyeol asked. His question triggered Sungjong and Myungsoo to peek at Hyoyeon’s colorless face. Her body had gone cold and any color left in her was gone.

“Back to our campsite. I should show my lady that we’re finally free of Japanese totalitarian,”

Once Myungsoo left, Sungjong and Sungyeol welcomed the morning sun. Its brightness may have consumed the air but the heavy atmosphere cannot be lifted. “If only I ran a bit faster Lady Hyoyeon wouldn’t be in that state.” Sungyeol cursed at himself. Guilt and regret eating him in and out slowly.

Meanwhile, Sungjong lacked the energy to even react. He never thought he’d lose his lover and fiancee just hours apart. However, in spite of their deaths, some bittersweet news came shortly after. According to Myungsoo and Sungyeol, Yoona’s father had sent a messenger to their main camp with news that the Japanese landlord had decided to pull out of Korea due to the loss of his precious and only child. The death of Lady Yoona opened his eyes and it didn’t sit right for him to continue ruling over the land where he personally took her life.

In less than a week the Japanese were gone, traceless, which was what the Koreans wanted though it left a bitter taste in their mouths. Just like Hyoyeon said, the people continued to love and respect Sungjong as if he had never tried to give up his stance in the rebellion. Then in a month’s time, as the natives repaired their homes and government, words of the Japanese landlord spotted in town spread like wildfire.

Sungjong could tell that a little over one month was too short for him and the older man to just move on. In a secluded room, kept heavily guarded only on the outside, Sungjong poured the foreigner and former enemy a drink. As the latter drank bottom up, the young Korean man eyed his facials. The Japanese’s silky black hair with a hint of gray in it sat in a tight but stressful bun on the top of his head. As the older set his glass down he locked gazes with Sungjong instantly. However, unlike usual Sungjong could not see hatred or anger lingering in his pupils.

Seated beside the older was his translator, a fine man of Korean descent. Knowing the stranger would be the first to speak, Sungjong paid him close attention.

“Since this visit is uncomfortable for both parties, lord Kazege will keep his purpose of visit blunt,” the white-haired appreciated the idea and solely nodded. As the former landlord began to speak, the translator also did his job, “If my daughter was a son she would have taken my place by now but because she is a daughter she did not qualify. Unfortunately, like any woman she hopelessly lost her senses and fell for you—our enemy. Whether or not you seduced her first can be put aside, as I do not trust that you will tell me the truth. But because she chose you and your people, as her father who single-handedly slew her I believe I owe her and you a favor,”

Sungjong kept his lips sealed and listened on.

“I may have pulled my men out of Korea but our Emperor plan to re-conquer this land. I cannot go against my ruler but I’m willing to provide your side with whatever supplies you need to take back your home,” there was a pause as the man reached into his kimono and draw out a thin golden paper. Slowly he set the rice paper in the center of the coffee table between them. Confused yet curious Sungjong reached for the page just to discover it is a map.

“This is..” as he trailed off the provider immediately fill him in.

“This map reveals the location of the weaponry station our Emperor rules over. To prevent a second war you must annex this place. 20% of the weapons stored here belong to your people. Take it back. It will be hard for the emperor to ship war materials over promptly,”

Sungjong raised a quizzical brow, “How would I know this is not a trap?”

A sigh left the other’s lungs as he exposed himself, “I knew you wouldn’t be able to trust me so today I brought with me proofs. Outside this room are three full carts of solely armor wear, bows and arrows, spears, and Chinese swords ready to be handed over to your party. Also,” the translator stopped to look at the landlord as the older stopped talking on his own.

Then unexpectedly he spoke in broken Korean, “you got the wrong idea of me. I’m not a heartless Japanese tyrant. Yes, I have beheaded thousands of your men but I know more than anyone the feeling of loving a woman of another descent. If you really did love my daughter you would have noticed that she is not fully Japanese,” Sungjong blinked, sure he was aware but it never occurred to him for the longest time. “My first wife was Korean and because of her, I wanted to take charge and treat Korea well. But because the generation before you murdered her, believing she was Japanese, I had no choice but to punish everyone,” despite the sadness growing in his voice the older’s eyes grew sharper, “I have no regret. I felt no remorse until my own sword pierced the heart of my daughter. That’s when I realized...I’ve done more than enough. You are not my enemy,” he stated boldly, “neither are you my ally. But I do see you as my son-in-law. So, would you accept my help or not?”

Even the translator was as shocked as Sungjong. The light haired eyes wavered in wonders then a smile came to him. With a deep breath, Sungjong said, “Someone once told me this: the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. Today I can finally understand what that means. Please help me, father-in-law.”

He bowed, exposing the crown of his head to the former landlord. Never had he imagined it would be alright for him to be this defenseless and off guard around the older male.

With the Japanese’s ‘okay’ they combined forces then and there. This time Sungjong was more confident than ever before, not because a powerful man has got his back, but because Hyoyeon and Yoona would be with him every step of his way.