Southern Coast of Joseon.
Early Summer 1837.
The sea had been calm since dawn, the kind of calm that came so often that no one thought much of it anymore. A thin layer of mist lingered over the water, softening the line between sea and sky without fully hiding it. The light from the rising sun spread slowly across the surface, reflecting in muted tones that shifted with the movement of the waves. Fishing boats had already set out, following routes that had not changed in years, their pace steady and familiar.
At the watch post above the cliffs, two guards stood where they always did. Their routine had settled into something predictable over time. They watched the water, spoke when there was something to note, and passed the hours in silence when there was nothing to report.
"It's quiet today," one of them said, more out of habit than concern.
The other gave a small nod. "It usually is."
