It's been 10 years after the ritual incident that cause misfortune for over the years until the palace had to ban shamanism because of the bloody incident in the forest.
Somewhere in Hanyang.
The marketplace echoed with the shouts of vendors declaring prices among the stacked persimmons and dried fish. Women in simple hemp jeogori haggled for rice in vociferous voices. In the distance, a band of samulnori players beat the drums in a rhythm that banished cold from winter.
Han Seorin walked through it all like a phantom.Seorin just turn 16th that year. She worked as herbalist by sold herbs and medicine.
Her straw basket held in front of her arm, not with vegetables or grain but with clumps of wild chrysanthemum, mugwort, and strips of mulberry.
To the most, she was nothing but a herbal seller. Another face within the populous city, but to the people who knew where to find her, her eyes said something different. They were pale as winter moonlight.
"Seorin-ya!"
She crossed over to where Ajumma Oh, who sold fish, was calling her over. "You have a fever medicine? My youngest had a fever since last night.".
Seorin smiled faintly, setting down her basket. "I have a tea that can calm the fever. Boil it up until the water is yellow." She pressed a paper-filled packet into the woman's hands, then whispered. "And place some of this dried mugwort under his pillow. It will keep the nightmares away."
Ajumma Oh's expression softened. "Still serving your mother's will, huh? Be careful, child. People are quick to talk behind your back these days."
Seorin nodded once. There had been the palace proclamation against shamanism since she could remember, but it's fear clung like a smoke. She learned to move unseen as a shadow, to disguise her healing as mere herbalism, and to lock her true knowledge deep within it.
Still, sometimes she can hearing the moon speak to her like a lullaby.
As she walked down an alleyway lined with gold-draped stalls, the environment suddenly transformed. The market sounds started to fade out, masked by the gentle pealing of a temple bell. A vision was coming.
Her vision started blurred. The colors of the marketplace just faded, obscured by the sheen of moon on the water. She saw the gates of the palace with red-painted and huge, their bronze fixtures glinting. A silver nine fox tails ran in between them, it's yellow eyes glinting. Behind it, a moving figure, dark and formless, stretched itself toward the throne of the royal court.
Seorin started panted hard.
The vision suddenly broke. She knocked against a wall, the rough stone biting into her palm. Her heart thudded in her chest. The fox was a sign, she had seen it before in her visions. It foretold change, threat, and the arrival of someone who could not be trusted. And it had penetrated the palace.
She steadied her breath, setting down her basket. There was nothing she could do. To intervene in the matters of the palace same as to invite death. She would return home, pound her herbs, and pretend the vision had not shown itself. But fate, it soon turned out, does not like to be disobeyed.
---
By noon, the market was thinning. Vendors slept behind their stalls, and the scent of grilled fish drifted weakly in the air. Seorin was closing up when yelling shattered the quiet.
"Stop him! Thief!"
She turned about to see a young fellow sprinting down the street, his arms wrapped about something in silk. He wore fine clothes, but his hair was loose, and his face hidden under the brim of a gat. Two of the city guards followed after him, but the fellow moved swiftly, weaving through the crowd like a swallow swooping.
He ran into the alley where Seorin stood.
She moved quickly , but as he swept by her, his eyes locked with hers.
Dark. Harsh. And somehow. familiar.
"Move!" one of the guards bellowed, charging at her.
The young man caught her wrist. "If you want to live, come with me," he growled.
She didn't have time to protest before he yanked her through the warren of back streets. They sideled between stacks of crates, dodged under laundry lines, and burst out finally into a tiny courtyard. The man released her and propped himself against the wall, wheezing.
"Who are you?" Seorin demanded, her racing heart still stumbling over it's beat.
He gave a half-smile, the sort favored by men accustomed to causing trouble. "A man who owes you his thanks. They would've captured me if it weren't for you."
"I did nothing," she replied, frowning.
"Exactly," he replied, as if that proved some truth. Then he came out of his gaze. "You're not from here, are you?"
She stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"Your eyes," he said softly. "They're like… the moon."
Her heart jumped. No one had ever said it so bluntly before.
Before she had a chance to say anything, the thud of boots came from the alley. The man stood up, tipping his hat. "We'll meet again, herbal girl." And he leaped over the low wall and disappeared.
The guards came a moment later, looking around the courtyard. "Did you see a man come through here?"
Seorin shook her head. "No one."
They snarled and departed.
Seorin panted slowly, alone once more. Who he was, she did nothing. And yet… the fox in her vision appeared again, it's yellow eyes gleaming.
And she believed that she had only just seen it.
---
By evening, Seorin was back in her small house on the edge of the capital. The moon was rising high, pale in a deepening blue. She set out her herbs, lit a solitary oil light, and sat opposite a small bowl of water.
Her fingers floated above the surface. It was unsafe, and the visions would attract dangerous attention. But her curiosity full inside her mind.
She said the ancient words, the words her mother had instructed her to use in secret. Moonlight poured across the water, spreading into shape.
This time she saw the Crown Prince of Joseon, his expression stern, his eyes was the same dark, piercing glance she had seen that afternoon.Her breath feeling heavy. The alleyway man wasn't a thief for sure.
And fate had just tangled her life up with the most precious person in the palace that might be dangerous path for her.