The Moon Holds The Light

Outside the Hotel's doors, a fine line of mist surrounded Seul like a warm blanket, its thousands arms wrapping themselves around every tree, person or building.

All, except one.

Looking outside her bedroom window, a flute of champagne loosely held between long, royal-blue nails as she rested sideways against the frames, Man Wol couldn't help the small snort as the large, full moon shone over the Hotel, its bright light falling over the peaceful, lit up picture of a city that could so easily have been Seul.

If only the fog wasn't so thick. If only the chill in the air and the smell of rain wasn't impregnating her room, dampening her perfectly styled hair and almost burning into her lungs.

Apparently, there were simply some things even the enchantment was not able to mask.

"So much for being the most powerful entity that be" she mumbled to herself with barely hidden disdain, sipping at her drink lazily as she recalled her last interactions with one of the elusive Ma Go's. The annoying one, that is.

The one always talking in riddles and picking flowers.

Frowning at the sudden darkening of her own mood, Man Wol-ah brushed the image of the old lady aside, deciding that she was already sick and tired of the never-changing scenery as she closed her eyes, willing the enchantment to reshape, to turn back to another night of a full moon, one that had already come to past a long time ago.

As her lids fluttered up, Jiang Man Wol could almost feel the brush of the hot summer air against her skin as the bright moon hung unimpeded on a large, cloudless summer night on Goryeo.

Stepping back from the windows, she put her flute down on a small, circular center table and walked slowly to the large balcony on the room, the same one that had been hidden behind heavy curtains for centuries now, almost completely forgotten by its owner.

For some reason, though, she opened the beautiful glass doors once more that night, stepping out of her high-end 21st Century Hotel right into the wooden rails of her old Inn, the rooftops behind her turning into large, trapeze lines of dark tiles, its lines straight and elegant as they converged on the corners, sliding in a soft 45 degree angle just to curl back on the tips.

On the torch-lit night, she could almost make up the sculpted pillars between the different floors, painted deep red with golden and red trims to resemble the royal palace rising almost out of view from the property.

Man Wol was still alone on those years, with the ghosts just coming and coming in a continuous flux, the Inn nothing but a quick stop between the sadness and longing of and old life and the possibilities that awaited on the other side of the Sun Tzu river.

Without anyone to dissuade her, she had decided to go and take a look around the palace, just to admire the architecture and treasure the great Taejo held managed to gather after decimating tens of thousands of people in his quest to unify the country.

That was, of course, as it should be. The fates had smiled on the once general and made it possible for him to desire, to dream of a kingdom and move in that direction that was written. Man Wol, still raw from her own misgivings and not feeling exactly warm towards royalty of any kind, could, however, sympathize with the man's plight. He was a descendent of her people after all – if not in blood, than at least in spirit.

As she saw it, the fall of Gogoryeo to the hand of Silla – barely three centuries back – could just as well had happened the night before.

After the turbulence, Taejo had risen and founded a new kingdom in honor of her own lost one, bringing back the dignity that had been so harshly ripped out of them as man and woman alike were slaved, tortured, raped and, when too broken to be of any use, tossed aside like dirt under their nails.

He was a worthy leader and a good monarch, but there was no hiding from the people that had died on the tip of his sword. She knew, better than most, that killing left a mark on the soul, and one would eventually pay the price.

Still, the knowledge of the fall of that which she saw as the Enemy didn't bring her any peace. There was no forgiveness in her heart, cold as the frozen moon on the sky.

The full moon – man wol.

It was appropriate, she decided with a sour chuckle. On that world, only the moon was like her – always wandering, and yet never changing.

That was how, on the 24th year of Taejo's reign, she found herself strolling into the royal palace on the night just before the performance of an old ritual to fend off evil spirts.

As she leisurely strolled down the hallways, eventually ending on the ceremonial grounds, Man Wol couldn't help but scoff at the sword-dance the sixteen princes were performing, their wooden weapons reaching out, turning and crossing between themselves to the rhythms of a silent music. It was almost cute how they thought that could actually keep dark energy away.

Along the centuries serving as hostess to the ghost hotel, Man Wol found the years were long, and memories easily turned to whispers, and the whispers slowly faded to shadows. A de ja vù, a familiar name being called on the street, a particular taste or sound or image that called for times long gone.

For some reason, however, those particular moments had never shattered into nothing, every word, every look, every thought that crossed her mind staying just a small pull away from her consciousness, so close but yet out of reach – as if waiting for something… Or maybe someone.

"Children" she remembered saying in a particularly derisive, matter-of-way way, her eyes honing on the two younger ones as they ran around each other. "Should a corrupted ghost really be after you, the only beings these swords would slay would be yourselves".

Tilting her head to the side, she nocked lightly on her lip with a finger, a thoughtful expression on her beautiful face.

"The only question that remains now is… Which of you would succumb first".

"That is a terribly dire question to ask yourself, child".

Man Wol sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically as she turned away from the princes and to the sound of the voice, a scowl fixed on her face as she eyed the annoying Ma Go.

The one with the flowers – and an unhealthy obsession with printed fabrics. Apparently, Ma Go'd had an "eternity to decide on a style that felt just right", so it was getting used to it or pretending the different patterns didn't make her want to claw her eyes out.

At least she is not the one with the sewing needles, though.

Who would've thought that, even after becoming a ghost, being hit by those things could still sting so much!

"So you are here too" she deadpanned "What is it? Came to check if I wasn't ruining anyone's destiny again?"

Instead of taking the bait, as Man Wol wanted her too, the deity just smiled softly, a knowing light on her dark, inscrutable eyes as she turned to watch the princes practice again.

"They must be fortunate" she eventually said, once it was clear Ma Go didn't plan on adding to the conversation "To have a deity visit their home… There is a bright future written for one of them – seeing as there is only one throne", giving a sidelong glance at the older woman she added, almost as an afterthought "It is a shame, really, that we can't just brake that pesky chair into sixteen pieces, isn't it?"

"It is as it should be" the old woman agreed, picking up a flower out of her straw basket and playing with the silky-white petals on her hand "To sit on the throne is to take the highest place on the world".

"And Yet" Man Wol retorted darkly "To reach so high, is to forever be alone. The highest chair is also the loneliest".

Ma Go just sighed, nodding with an almost sad look on her face as she watched the two younger princes play around their brothers, the sound of laughing spreading like the wings of a bird over the palace walls.

"It won't take long now" she said quietly, caressing her flowers with the barest of touches "One born with the star of a king, another born under the fate of a ruler…"

Man Wol couldn't help the rise of her eyebrows, looking sideways at the peaceful deity.

"You say that so lightly" she grumbled, her arms crossing over her middle. "We both know that means a lot of blood will be shed before there is finally peace. People cannot bow to two masters."

"A star shall fall so that another can rise" Ma Go agreed, a sad smile on her face "One day, the sun that rises up in flames will also fall silently to its end. And then another bright star will be brought on its place, just for the cycle to begin anew… It is the way of the world".

The young woman scoffed, turning to face the deity with a deep, mocking frown.

"The way of the world, is it?" She drawled with a lazy smirk "The deities that built it should take responsibility then… To create a world where we have to kill in order to survive, and then to make the act of killing a sin… Isn't that most convenient?"

"It seams that your heart hasn't found the peace it was seeking when we first met" Ma Go answered with a knowing smile, ignoring the woman's jab.

She shrugged, deciding she had had her quota of "serious talk" for at least the next couple decades.

"It probably would… If your poor sister would stop coming to my door!" She accused "There is no learning and letting go when you are poor!"

When she turned back to leave, shooting a last "tell her to back off" over her shoulders, Man Wol could swear she heard the deity laugh lightly, the sound, like wind bells, disappearing into the wind just as she turned on a corner of the palace.

All the way back to her Inn, though, the young woman could not shake the feeling that he had seen her. He, the one called wolf-dog, the only prince that wielded the sword with the precision of a fighter, with the moves and destrecity of one that was used to fight to survive the next day.

It was on the shadow of death that weighted on his shoulders, on the way he kept himself slightly apart from the others, never entirely engaging, never completely there, as if the ghosts of his sins were always one step away, whispering his guilt on his ears.

And, mostly, it was on the curious, almost hollowed way his eyes shone as they glided through where she had been… And stopped, almost as if he was looking at her.

Thinking back to those times, after finally letting that one hate-filled part of her go, Man Wol couldn't help seeing why she hadn't kept entirely away, why she had felt the need to come back. To keep close.

It was because of those eyes.

The same eyes she had been used to seeing in her reflex over the moonlit river. The eyes that stared back at her before the slaughter of her people. After so much bloodshed, so much pain, somehow there was still a sparkle of hope, a deeply incrusted need for love he couldn't hide behind his sword.

Turning her back against the smooth, wooden railings, head tilted slightly up so that she could watch the unchanging moon shining over the building, Man Wol couldn't help but go back to thinking about that one night, not long after her first foray on the palace.

Thinking about it now, seeing the white light slowly getting tinged of blue around the corners, she new the magic on the hotel had reached for the whispers and dust left by that single moment, a night when the full moon had burned cold blue, while the world bellow flared blood red.

The moment they arrived, she knew they came from the fire.

Not that they had all been burned alive, no. Their ghosts were still marked by the coldness and stench breath of death, their plain clothes marred only by the thousand gashes left by nit, precise, almost art-like strokes of a sword.

Not one of them had their tongues, of course.

It was the second batch only that week.

The first ones had left their lives with such strong grudges that a few had managed to leave the Inn and wander back to the palace, where, after almost two hours of search, she and the Reaper had finally found them over Prince Yo's bad, whispering nightmares over the man's trashing body, his hair already damp with sweat.

She didn't particularly like the third prince, not after the large – and growing – number of unplanned guest that had been delivered by him or on his orders. Still. After watching the fire burn from afar, the flames reaching for the heavens like a glowing hand reaching out, devoting everything on its wake, Man Wol was curious to know what he had really wanted by ridding himself of so many mute monks.

Seeing as they couldn't speak, and that they had all been trained to kill themselves with poison in case of being taken prisoner, it all just felt like a terrible waste.

Besides, having to deal with such a large number of unhappy, anger-fueled ghosts was just tiresome and left her with a throbbing head-ache.

In short, that little prince had managed to make her annoyed.

That was why, when one of the recently killed monks were noticed to be missing from the Inn, Man Wol had contained an eye roll and sulked all the way to the palace, summing Shin – the only sensible reaper that actually knew how to hold a conversation, as far as she was concerned – along the way.

It had been an actual surprise to not see the vengeful ghost roaming around the Third Prince's quarters, as both of them thought to have quite a clear idea of what had transpired on the night that the mountain was lit up in flames.

Still, seeing as the royal family was composed of actual humans – and that none of the two wanted to have to deal with the Evil Ma Go (she had gotten used to call her the second Ma Go just to annoy Shin, who would always grumble and retort that "one should not number the deity") – even though one or two liked to test that theory, they decided to go separate ways and look after the lost soul.

At the end of the night, Shin had found him wandering Queen Yo's chambers.

But it was Man Wol who had seen him first.

She had been turning what felt just like another large, silent corridor when she heard the sound of shattering chinaware, followed by viciously screaming voices. Curious, and hopping to find her lost guest and be done with it, she followed the noise just in time to see a man completely dressed in black clothes bursting out of the door, passing right through the poor, confused monk ghost.

The stench of blood was heavy, lingering even after his dripping garments were already out of sight, running away from the courtyard.

Man Wol didn't know she had moved until her steps halted in front of a group of praying towers, the smooth, flat stones pilled high one over the other, the blue moon's light seeming to almost shimmer around them, giving the scene an almost dream-like quality.

And then everything tumbled to the ground. A gut wrenching, bone chilling scream cut the stillness after the fall of the rocks as his arms flayed, his entire body crashing against one praying tower after another until his own blood was flowing, miking with the already dried one left by the slaughtered monks.

He was nothing of the man she remembered from the training of the ceremony. Not the calm aloofness, not the silent stares and controlled, economic movements. He was all limbs and a self-destructive mass of energy.

Th only thing that stay the same was the mask. The silver-washed, half-face mask that almost felt like it had been glued into place.

"Why…" he eventually whispered, his destroyed hands gripping at the ruins of the now that had been the larger towers "Why can't you love me…? In your eyes, am I even your son?"

With another choked, crazed laugh, the Fourth Prince begun pushing against the rocks again, every thumping sound as loud as a drop of blood hitting the calm surface of a river.

Man Wol wasn't aware she had moved until her back was resting against the railing of the steps taking to the tower's platform, her arms crossed over her middle as she watched the tears running red down his face as his shoulders shook with grief.

Maybe in another lifetime, she would have felt sympathy. Maybe his pain would move her heart and moisten her eyes as she watched such a strong man crumble right in front of her, no stronger than the prayer towers he was still bumping against.

But she was still the owner of the Moon's Inn. She was still Man Wol. And that organ under her ribs had long ago stopped working.

When she talked, there was no sadness on her voice – only cold detachment.

"They won't forgive you."

The Forth Prince turned so fast he almost stumbled on the fallen stones, his eyes taking a few seconds to refocus as he held his sword high again, aiming at her.

"Who are you?" He demanded in an enraged voice, his eyes wild "What are you doing in the palace?"

"They won't forgive you" she repeated instead, on the same serious tone "The deities. The lives you took are a debt you will have to pay when the time comes… Wether it was for fun or for survival, the blood is on your hands all the same."

Slowly, the sword lowered, his arm slacking at his side as the forth prince turned away from the strange woman, his features trembling with the effort to contain another wave of tears.

"Get out." His voice, usually drawled and confident, was barely more than a whisper, the words barely leaving his clenched jaw "You don't belong here."

Man Wol didn't say anything at first, just watching the silent struggle as the prince fought to keep control of the turmoil on his head. For some reason, it almost made a tug at her consciousness, but it was still not strong enough to stop her going forward.

"Whether or not I belong here is not something you should concern yourself with, Fourth Prince" she eventually said, watching the deeply stained iron of the sword sinking between the stoned, painting the grey with red dots.

"I said to GET OUT!"

Wang So threw the sword away, his closed fits knocking once more against the taller tower and reopening the gashes on his skin. When he finally calmed down, his breath was coming in white puffs against the cold, his long fringe of hair falling against his face, another mask to hide himself from the world.

Instead of walking away in fear, as he was used to people doing in his presence, the young woman dressed in red robes slowly righted her posture, eyes turning to the large, glowing moon on the sky as she begun strolling between the rubbles, her steps so light they barely made a sound.

"The gods give you the sword, but punish you for using it. That is the way of the world" she said in a matter of fact way "Since the sin is already committed, you should not look back in regret." Stopping just a couple steps from him, her body right in his line of sight, Man Wol said seriously "Since the deity gave you the means, you should follow the path to the end. Wathever happens, will happen. It will be better, when the time is come, if you have to pay for your crimes without regrets.",

When she turned to leave, Man Wol didn't think too much about his knees giving way, or the soft sound of his tears as Wang So cried. The world was a dark, unforgiving place. Pity would not help him do what needed to be done.

If fate was to shine over him – as the deities seemed to believe it would, eventually – then the Forth Prince didn't need a shoulder or someone to hold him. What he needed was strength to move forward.

And if pain was the fuel to pavement his way forward, she thought it was just as well.

Gasping, Man Wol opened her eyes wide, the memory so strong she felt like the stench of blood was still glued to her nostrils, the feel of the fallen rocks wobbly under her bare feet.

"No…" she mumbled, her eyes darting everywhere with such distress that she couldn't gather the concentration to even hold the glamour over the hotel, the silent, lonely Goryeo night melting once again to the open night sky of Seul.

It ca't be… It can't…

And yet… She chuckled darkly, not knowing whether to rage, cry, or laugh at her own stupidity.

The deity had said before, there was a reason Gu Chanseong was the one to send her home. There was a reason why he was the only one able to push trough the large, tall walls fortified around her dead heart.

It was because…

"It was because he promised…" her voice was soft, almost soundless as realization washed over Man Wol, her eyes drifting of their own volition to the figured laid quietly on the bad beyond her bedroom walls, his slight smile bringing one of her own as she watched him sleep.

Watched him remember too.

Blinking back the sudden dumbness on her eyelashes, the young woman slowly walked back inside, closing the glass doors after her but letting the drapes still wide-open, so that the white light of the moon could wash over her lavishly decorated room.

Stopping a second beside him, she let her eyes travel over the strong curve of his chin, the soft turn of his eyes and the gentle, kind smile that lit his face even in slumber.

"Gu... Chan… Seong…"

As the words left her lips, she didn't know wether it was a reproach, a call, or a thank you to the deities for sending him back to her. Still, as she laid herself on the bad once again, taking his hand on her own over the satin-covered pillow, Man Wol couldn't help revisiting that one last memory, the one she had almost forgotten, safely hidden on the farthest recesses of her mind.

One of the last she would forget on her walk through the bridge over the Sun Tzu river.

"I knew you would come back eventually". Wang So had told her on that bright morning, his orange garment and mask-free face making the glow on his dark eyes even stronger against the dark hair pushed back.

They were both standing under the shades of a couple trees on the palace grounds, the sun shinning over the clear water of the lake reflecting on their clothes like a thousand diamonds. It had been already a couple years after his father's passing, with the court finally stabilizing and accepting his knew place as a trusted advisor for the king.

"Acceptance becomes you, Fourth Prince" she remembered taunting with a smirk, which only gained a light, carefree laugh back. One that she didn't even know he was able to produce.

"Yes, I suppose I does" Wang So agreed easily, the smile never leaving his face as he kept staring at her.

On that morning, he had asked her to take a turn with him on the lake. He had talked and walked with her when Man Wol refused his offer, remembering the young man once again she wasn't someone he could care for.

At first she had gone there to warn him against his third brother. When his soul hadn't arrived at the hotel after his supposed death, Man Wol had first felt disappointed – that was one ghost she had some grudges to settle with – and then, when he failed to appear over and over again, she started feeling curious.

And then she was annoyed again. He hadn't died after all.

So, for some reason she didn't quite understand at the time, Man Wol had wandered back to the palace… Just to bump into the evil Ma Go on the way. When the stare down was over, the prince had already noticed her though, so simply disappearing was not an option anymore.

After that day, she only saw him again when she received his soul on the Inn, his features turn young once more as far as his feet reached the front door.

"I can wait" he had said when she went to send him off, closing his fingers around the jape pin she had refused on that bright morning and tugging it back into his own robes, the robes of that young forth prince he once was "You yourself said you've been alive for hundreds of years now" he came closer, his eyes smiling and warm despite the seriousness of his words "So, I can wait. I will wait for the lifetime when you can love me back."

Looking now at Gu Chanseong's peaceful face, she couldn't help the single, salty tear trailing down her face.

Reaching out with trembling fingers, Man Wol traced the soft skin of his face, carefully caressing the place where once was a deep, large scar.

"I've made you wait… Pyeha…"

Just as the words left her lips, Gu Chanseong's smile grew wider, his own slender fingers reaching to hold hers on a tight, yet tender grip. When his eyes finally opened, there were thousands of years of longing, patience and love written on his gaze.

"I finally found you" he whispered, his voice, still rough with sleep, making her laugh.

"You did" the woman agreed, letting herself be brought closer, his arms holding her against his warm chest as he kissed the crown of her head, hugging her as close as was humanly possible. "You found me…"

And on that moment, even though she knew they didn't have much more time together. Even thought she was scared of the unknown and what her next life would bring… Even though she felt her heart squeeze in pain at the mare thought of loosing him again – of forgetting him – Man Wol finally understood.

Deep into her heart, despite everything else, she knew they would find each other.

They would always find each other.

Bam Haneul… Wang So… Gu Chanseong… On our next life, let us meet again once more.

Let us finally be right for each other.

And as her thoughts drifted while her consciousness hung between wakefulness or sleep, Man Wol also knew that, annoying as she was, Ma Go had heard her voice.

And on her last night as the owner of Hotel Del Luna, as the white light of the moon shone brightly over her through he large windows like a blessing, Man Wol was certain that the deity was also smiling over her.