Wang So

Words travel faster in the palace, than it did in the Kang household. Every corner, words in the lowest of whispers leaves the mouths of guards, maids, and court ladies. He melts into the shadows, with ease. Struts along the hall, ever silent. There’s no point scaring people senselessly. Always keeping an ear out. A habit he acquired after being left alone for six nights without food.

A kitchen maid mentions of acquiring his brother’s favourite snacks. Another sighs, complains of the dread of seeing older brother’s face. Mother’s name is tossed several times between the two, about supper.

Seems like Mother slept off her illness. Perfect. He’s beyond observing proper etiquette, barges into the complex, ignores his half-brothers as he makes his way towards the only room that matters.

“Your Highness,” crones a court maid frantic, stationed outside the door. He shoves the court lady aside.

Lips twitching into a smile on its own, he wipes his sweaty palm against his pants and inhales a deep breath.

So enters, to find three pairs of eyes staring back at him. With disdain. With contempt. With annoyance.

He takes his rightful place, sits on the floor. He starts, words spilling out from his mouth in burst of stutters, “I wanted to say hello to you, Mother.”

Mother casts her sight on her fingers, her tone’s monotonous, “Have you been well? I had heard that you arrived. I would have called for you.”

He struggles to keep his lips into a thin line, “I had met with my brothers and I thought I should meet with you,” swallows his saliva down.

Silence bounces against the walls inside the room, buzzing in his ears. He’s not sure, if he’s to talk. Neither Mother nor Yo glance at his direction. Jung sneaks a glimpse, a flicker of nervousness makes its home on his face, as he chews his lower lip.

His youngest brother turns to their mother, speaks freely, with affections in his voice, “Mother, it seems like So has learnt some martial arts lately.”

“Martial arts?” Mother’s ears pipe in interest, yet she doesn’t spare a glance at him.

So’s about to answer, but Jung cuts in, “Yes. He was great when we were practicing for the ritual earlier. According to the rumours—”

“They are just rumours,” Yo finishes for him, sipping some tea.

Jung continues, “Brother Eun mentioned the Shinju government dying and useless nonsense like that.”

Mother turns to gaze at her unfavourite son (just barely), then shifts her eyes to her cup, “You tell me. Have you learnt martial arts?”

There’s time and place for information like this to be revealed, this is not the time, So simply answers, “I have not.”

Yo scoffs, a conceited grin forms on his lips, “Why would you? It’s not as if they are raising you to be a tiger. Why would the Kangs teach martial arts?”

“Mother, have you heard that there is a wolf dog in Songak? They say it is so awful to look at, that it’s worse than a wolf or dog,” Jung mentions, casting a covert side-glance at So, “They say it is from Shinju, don’t they?”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been to the capital, so enjoy your visit,” Mother ventures, her lips bears a smile that doesn’t quite reach up to her dark eyes.

“I have set aside a gift for you, Mother,” he murmurs, pats over the hairpin strapped to his waist, making sure it’s still there.

“You no longer need to visit me while you are here. You may leave,” she continues, staring at her fingers like it’s the most interesting thing inside the room.

“It’s been two years. You want me to leave already?” So’s lips strains to keep his smile on his face, keeps his voice nonchalant. Blinks away the tears threatening to form, he bites his lower lip hard until his tongue tastes blood.

“It is because of your adoptive mother, who lies around suffering without you,” Mother languidly replies.

So blurts out, “I plan on staying a while longer this time,” tries his chance, “Why don’t I stay in the palace with my brothers?”

“That is impossible,” Mother snaps, eyes him ever too brief, “You are a Kang of Shinju. Have you forgotten that the moment of your return would incite the longstanding grudge between the two households?”

So struggles to rein in his snarl, pushes himself to smile, “You say I was sent there to be adopted. But I am a hostage.”

“What a thing to say,” Yo’s voice trails off, there’s scepticism sitting on his brows, “How can you say you’re a hostage? Mother is only worried that it will a bother to your adoptive mother.”

Mother’s quick to support his older brother (she always does), “Yo is correct. Why would I send you a hostage?”

“Since you are saying that, I will have to trust you,” So concedes, and adds, “Oh, right. I …” So slips a hand into his robe, fingers touching over the hairpin. He tries to stifle a smile, the end of his lips twitching instead. He picked a hairpin befitting for the empress his mother is.

“Mother, I brought you a gift,” Jung announces, ing a large and elaborate red-coloured box to Mother.

So snaps his attention quick that his neck makes a cracking sound. The end of his eye catching the outline of an extravagant hairpin. His fingers still grasped tightly around the hairpin inside his robe.

“Oh my goodness. Jung, I like it very much.”

The grin on Jung’s lips widens to the point So wishes his face split wide open, “You like hair pieces a lot. So I got this specially made by a silversmith at the market. You should wear it for the spiritual ritual.”

Mother’s lips split into a satisfied smile So dreams of accomplishing, “Thank you.”

“I’ll get going now,” quips So, getting to his feet. Part of him hopes that Mother would change her mind, calls him to sit for another round of tea. Again Mother did not part her sight from Jung’s hairpin.

“One more thing,” Mother says, all in a sudden. And So knows it’s for him, that he whips on his heels swift to turn to face Mother, holds his breath in.

“Make sure you don’t disturb Heungbang,” Mother reminds him, “She’s with another household now.”

His shoulders slump forward, presses his lips into a thin, tight line. “Yes, Mother. I will bear that in mind,” he replies, dejection stinging his chest. He walks out from the room, stops short outside, and catches snippet of their conversation.

“How can a prince looks so pathetic? There is nothing more embarrassing,” Yo snorts, the haughty smile on his face ever widens, So imagines.

“Once the ritual is over, make sure he returns home,” he hears Mother’s voice orders, “If he insists on staying,” Mother pauses, “call in the army officers and get him out of my sight.”

So has heard enough, and stalks towards the opposite direction.