The air was heavy with sounds of victory.

 

People had gathered eagerly by the hundreds, faithfully lining the streets outside the high walls of the Imperial Palace in great anticipation. And in each heart burned the same flaming hope—to be graced with even just a glimpse of their fearless defender, their immortal savior. Even the women had come out of their homes, congregating among themselves at a polite distance behind the men. Children danced to the soft songs of their mothers while the men dominated the joyful celebration with music of their own—loud war cries starkly punctuated with rhythmical stomping of their feet. It was disciplined chaos.
 

And it was all in honor of the long-awaited return of the revered son of Seoul, the warrior-lord Choi Junhong.
 

The people’s warm rejoicing rode swiftly on the wings of the wind, flitting through the leaves of the red maple trees, soaring high until it broke through the walls of the Imperial Palace. Through the closed windows, past the heavy tapestry, it made its presence known to the six men gathered around a large, round table inside the heavily guarded room.
 

The man seated at the north of the group tilted his head and smiled. “Do you hear that, Junhong? The people glorify you.”
 

Junhong looked up from the bowl of tea in his hands and saw his friend, the High King, watching him with solemn pride. With a small smile that never reached his eyes, Junhong replied, “They glorify someone they do not even know.”
 

Shock quickly replaced the High King’s smile. “Not know you? Every little boy dreams of becoming like you. Your name is on every young lady’s lips. Every father on this blessed land claims you as his son. And you say they do not know you? You are mistaken, Junhong-ah. The people know you very well.”
 

Junhong laughed bitterly. “They know the legend, not the man.”
 

Comprehension slowly dawned on the High King. With a worried frown, he said in a quiet voice, “Brother…”

 

Junhong looked his friend in the eyes and said, “They do not know me, Yongguk hyung. Those people do not know me. Do you think they’ll still glorify me if they knew the truth? Not one man out there would lift a finger to help me even if I were fast sinking in mud. You know what I’m saying is true. Every war I’ve fought for them and their sons and their families would be forgotten. All that would be remembered of me is that one name. No. I don’t think they know me at all.”
 

Yoo Youngjae, chief counsel to the High King, interjected, “Why are you bringing that up now? That's all in the past, Junhong-ah.”
 

Junhong smiled bitterly and bent his head. Slowly turning the forgotten bowl in his hands, he whispered in a voice so low the others could barely hear, “It will forever be part of me.”
 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jongup gritted out.
 

“Wasn’t it?” Junhong demanded, turning to his friend in self-directed anger. “I bear the name—“
 

“CHOI JUNHONG!”
 

Junhong bowed his head instinctively, waiting for the High King’s reprimand.
 

“You bear the name of Choi. You are Choi Junhong. Remember that.”
 

But his guilt could not be buried now. Somehow, the demons of his past had finally caught up with him. Junhong looked up, ready to demand his friends’ hatred. He opened his mouth to make them see how much he had deserved to die that day. Him, not her. It should have been him…
 

But no word escaped his lips, as he saw something he never expected.
 

The High King was staring back at him with fierce determination.
 

But it wasn’t the anger contorting the Imperial Ruler’s face that made Junhong stop. No. Anger was something he would have gratefully accepted, instead of what he had seen past the mask.
 

In his friend’s eyes was the same raging pain, the same living hell.
 

Silence invaded the room, quickly filling every space, until it grew much louder than the war cries coming from the hundreds of men below…

 

 

~

Han Yooee held on tightly to her brother’s hand. It was exactly a day since the invasion. They had stopped only once, when Yoogun started vomiting from lack of sleep and food. Yooee stayed up and watched over him while he slept. She could not let herself close her eyes for even just a second for fear of getting caught by the warriors again.
 

That was foolish of her to search the bodies. She had only wanted to find Taesuk but she had instead put her brother in harm’s way. If it had not been for that man…
 

Why did he stop the guard?
 

The question refused to leave her. He had no reason to spare their lives. He had already killed dozens of men, women, even children. Two more would not have mattered.
 

But he did. He saved their lives.
 

Why?
 

There had been something in his eyes.
 

She had been startled at the shout of command and turned to see where it had come from. The owner of the strong, low voice belonged to a man of great height. He looked like the very Devil himself, cloaked in midnight black from his shield to the calfskins covering his feet. His aura was overwhelming. Even without knowing who he was, Yooee knew he wielded a great amount of power. She could tell that he commanded respect and veneration wherever he went.
 

So it was all the more shocking when she looked up and saw his face.
 

She was staring into the eyes of a young boy. And the pain she saw in them robbed her of breath. They looked like two pools of infinite misery. Those eyes had witnessed horror beyond imagination, a tragedy so crippling it would have broken down the toughest of men. That was the reason why she had done the impossible. It must have been, surely it must have been…for she had no other explanation why she had tried to comfort the man whose very existence nearly destroyed hers.
 

She looked at him with compassion, telling him with her own eyes that everything would be okay, that he would, somehow, be okay, that whatever ghosts tormented him would eventually die.
 

And she knew that he understood her.
 

“Noona—“
 

Han Yooee pulled her focus back to the present and turned to her brother. “What is it, Yoogun? Are you okay?”
 

Yoogun’s face paled. Yooee was about to touch his forehead, when all of a sudden her world turned black.

 

 

~

 

“What was that all about?”
 

Junhong continued walking, pretending not to hear his friend. He and Jongup were walking down the street outside the Imperial Palace, heading towards their own houses. The welcome celebration had ended hours ago. Only a few people remained outside the gates.
 

“Choi Junhong! I know you can hear me, brother, do not even try pulling that deaf trick on me,” came Jongup’s exasperated voice.
 

Junhong persevered. He kept quiet and continued walking.
 

Jongup bit his lower lip. Enough is enough. He grabbed Junhong’s shoulder and slammed him against the high wall, pinning his friend. He brought his face closer to his and said, “You tell me now, or I will beat it out of you, Junhong-ah. Your pick.”

Junhong glared at him and tried to move away. Jongup quickly checked him and pinned him back in place.
 

Junhong was livid. “What the hell do you want to know?! Huh?! What the hell do you want to ing know?! That I still have nightmares about that night? That I still punish myself every single day for being alive? That I still look at myself and see nothing but a bastard?! Huh! Is that what you want to ing know?!”
 

Jongup looked at him, not uttering a word.
 

“Huh, hyung? Then there, now you know. Are you satisfied now?” Junhong brushed his hands off and walked away.
 

Jongup stared at his friend’s back and said quietly, “I’m sorry, brother. I’m so sorry.”
 

And as if the gods were looking down and saw the warrior's heavy heart, they opened the skies to weep the tears he kept inside.