Assassination of the Chancellor (1)
The Emperor had passed away, and the Black Blade that had maneuvered the palace from the shadows disintegrated overnight.
Though it was still dark, the news spread swiftly through the government quarters.
The assassin, So-un, waited for the rumor to travel faster still.
Once it spread, the officials would enter the palace for audience.
That was when he intended to kill the Chancellor.
He had no intention of asking where the man lived or tracking him down.
A gentleman walks the great road, so the saying goes.
He did not consider himself a gentleman.
Yet he would strike on the great road.
Avoiding the soldiers scurrying like ants, he sat atop the roof of a tall pavilion by the entrance.
It was an excellent vantage point.
"I will act on the great road."
At dawn, So-un sat at the edge of a roof overlooking the Vermilion Bird Avenue, lined on both sides with government offices.
From that height he could see the entire stretch from one end to the other.
The view was so commanding that he could not understand why men crawled about on the ground when such a place existed.
It seemed a fitting height from which to cultivate a broad spirit.
He thought it would not be a bad habit to climb up from time to time.
He waited calmly for the Chancellor to appear.
The news of the Emperor's death unsettled the dawn air.
An anxious wind hurried the steps of those passing by.
Officials in formal robes hastened toward the palace in short, quick strides.
The great plaque above the palace gate seemed to draw them in with invisible force.
The prospect of shifting power was enough to stir the entire bureaucracy.
Change meant that one's position might rise—or fall.
Some trembled with unease, but many were filled with expectation.
Everyone, at least once, imagines change at the death of the highest authority.
It hints at the possibility that life itself might turn.
The fool is the one who delights in flattery at his doorstep.
Behind flattery stands the cold truth that others wait for his place to empty.
They bow not from reverence but from calculation.
The Chancellor awoke before dawn to hear the news of the Emperor's passing in his bedchamber.
The word assassination accompanied it.
The message from the palace was brief.
"The Emperor has passed. Enter the palace at once."
He had thought it part of a fading dream, but the knocking at his door grew louder.
He rose and sat up.
A concubine he had recently taken lay beside him, her pale shoulder bare.
Startled, she sat upright, and in failing to cover herself, her garments and blanket slipped downward.
The first light of dawn filtered through the eastern window.
The messenger did not dare step inside and delivered the report from beyond the door.
His voice was cautious yet urgent.
"Chancellor! His Majesty has passed! Chancellor!"
"I understand."
"Her Majesty the Empress commands that you attend the audience hall immediately."
"I understand."
The Empress herself had been raised by his hand.
If she summoned him, it meant measures must be taken.
Yet what troubled him more was who had dared assassinate the Emperor.
Since he had taken control of the court, he had left no faction capable of such a move.
Even the assassination of the Emperor would have been impossible without his command.
He believed himself to stand above all earthly power.
As far as he knew, no person or organization remained capable of such a deed.
"The old master of the Black Blade?"
"And who stands next in succession? The Crown Prince is still young."
"Who could it be… Was it the Black Blade?"
No name surfaced.
No force with sufficient motive came to mind.
The necessary conditions for such an upheaval were absent.
His mind turned with sharp speed.
No answer emerged.
He would have to see with his own eyes.
"Yongseon! Is Yongseon there?"
When he pushed the door open, Yongseon stood waiting at the Moon-Winter Gate entrance, head bowed.
"You called, my lord?"
"Go to the old master's residence behind the palace. Do not enter. Observe from a distance whether anything has occurred. This is urgent. Highest priority."
"Yes, my lord."
The household retainer called Yongseon rushed out, cutting through the chill dawn air.
Moments later, the sound of hooves split the morning beyond the wall.
News would return soon.
The young concubine, now dressed, brought forth his official robes.
The trace of the night lingered upon her face.
He looked down at her, but she did not meet his gaze.
She was young and lovely.
"Hurry."
"Yes, Chancellor."
Her movements were languid from the remnants of the night, yet he felt no displeasure.
His body was relaxed but still vigorous.
She was the daughter of an official executed on charges of treason.
As he donned his robes, he sank into thought.
Desire is like the thin residue of a dream passing through the night.
Men believe fulfillment will grant happiness and chase it with devotion.
They gather and seize, spending their fleeting lives.
Yet time passes, and they must don their robes again and return to duty.
That is reality.
Desire and dreams are empty things.
In a world where men wager their lives upon such emptiness,
those who see through it prevail.
While others fix their gaze upon some coveted object,
he strikes from behind and takes even that which they sought.
That is politics.
He had taken this young concubine in the same manner.
She would have been sold into slavery; instead, she became a concubine in the Chancellor's household.
Her life had changed.
Such is the world.
Appearance and outcome wear different faces.
Even as he calculated what she might be thinking, he continued to ponder the Emperor's death.
"Who could it be? Who?"
No clear answer came.
The old master might have had reason to gamble.
Yet he could obtain what he desired without resorting to this.
If he resented the division of power, he might replace the Emperor and nibble at the Chancellor's authority.
But was such a move necessary?
Until now, it had not been.
Even now, it was not.
Events do not arise without cause.
Fully robed, brushing his sleeves, he prepared to leave when the young concubine embraced him from behind.
"Hah…"
He had yielded in most matters.
Only in calculated political steps had he refused to retreat.
In many affairs he had accepted the old master's requests.
There was no reason for the man to act rashly.
If he sought the sun from the shadows, he should have targeted the Chancellor himself, not the Emperor.
Thought followed thought.
Yongseon had not yet returned.
There was no reason for the Black Blade to kill the Emperor.
There had been disagreements.
They concerned how to deal with General Jin Mugwang.
The Chancellor preferred exile.
The old master preferred death.
Even the Emperor had favored death.
Yet that did not justify assassinating the Emperor.
"Prepare the horses."
He gave the order outward and gently freed himself from the concubine's arms.
"I will return."
"Yes, my lord."
She bowed with both hands folded.
Her bearing was graceful and composed.
She was the daughter of a house annihilated by the Black Blade.
She had begged for her life; he had spared it by taking her as concubine.
He could not know her true thoughts.
For now, she appeared content.
She suited his aging self well and managed the household with care.
Her perfection almost unsettled him.