Southern Coast of Joseon
Late Winter 1837
The sea looked the same as it always had.
The tide moved in and out with its usual rhythm, steady and familiar. The wind came across the water in long, cold currents, sharp enough to bite through layers of cloth but not strong enough to disrupt anything. Above, the sky stretched wide and pale, the kind of quiet winter sky that carried no sign of change.
If someone had walked along the shore without knowing what had happened in the past months, they would have seen nothing unusual.
Just the sea.
Just the wind.
Just the land as it had always been.
And yet, everything about it had changed.
The guards no longer stared at the ships the way they once did.
When the vessels first appeared on the horizon, every man on duty had watched them without rest. Eyes fixed forward, shoulders tense, hands ready to move at the smallest sign of change. No one had known what to expect, and that uncertainty had filled every moment.
