Part 24

Although I'd been in Goryeo for weeks by the next day, it was the beginning of a new phase. I could feel it not just in the environment—the last of the brown spring leaves turning to green, the warmth in the air, the heat from the sun—but also in my mindset. Whatever had happened or could have been could no longer matter. I needed to survive now.

The early morning had brought news of Ju and Heonae's new baby. Technically, it was Chi who brought the news. Even though I'd stayed in my room after Chi walked me back to the palace, I couldn't sleep until I heard that Heonae and her new baby boy were both safe and well.

Actually, I couldn't sleep at all. Between worry over Heonae and everything else that had happened over the previous twenty-four hours, there was no room for sleep, so I threw on my work clothes and headed out to tend to the wheat while everyone else was still asleep. As I walked along the sunrise-kissed rows of quickly-growing crops, I felt an odd contradiction of feelings rise inside of me. In one day, I'd realized just how strong my love for another person could be, only to have to come to terms with the necessity of letting him go. What made it particularly bittersweet, was that he loved me back. I'd never realized what a special, unique thing it is to experience mutual love and care before, and now I'd have to gradually let mine go.

I sighed, straightening up from where I'd bent down for a better look at the soil. I knew I could do this. I'd given up on things that just weren't working before. Sure, they hadn't been as painful as this one, precious thing, but I could work at it. I'd wean myself off, because I had no other choice. Every time I struggled, I knew I'd say that to myself.

You have no other choice.

It was still painful. It would always be painful. But that mantra helped me in its truth and repetition. Life would go on—it would have to. Nothing could ever replace Chi in my life, and I knew that. But at the very least, I could know that if we were never meant to be forever, I could still focus on other things that mattered; things that Chi had brought back into my life.

Like this soil. I barely caught the yawn in my throat. Nerdy as I was, soil was never really my favourite part of gardening and botany. But it was necessary. In order to have a healthy, beautiful garden, you need to nurture the foundation. Foundation, being the dry, boring bit.

I was sifting it between my fingers, testing to see if it was dry, yet free-flowing, or if it was a crumblier texture, when I saw a shadow in front of me. My heart quickened as I lifted my head to meet eyes with…

"Seung-Ro." My voice was a mixture of surprise and something I could only identify as disconcertment, and I tried to regain control of it before I spoke again. "What brings you here?"

"With Prince Chi and Their Majesties being preoccupied with the new child, someone needed to keep their eye on you. Make sure that you aren't going astray." His tone was friendly and polite enough, yet the words made me feel cold.

"That's kind, but you shouldn't have worried. Chi did bring me here because of my expertise." I smiled wide, hoping he would go away.

I was clearly mistaken.

"Be that as it may, it is my responsibility to take care of Prince Chi." He moved forward, placing a hand on my forearm. "Therefore, I have a responsibility to care for the ones he is closest to."

In that moment, I realized what creeped me out so much about Seung-Ro. It wasn't that I found him particularly threatening to my physical safety. It was that Seung-Ro was knowledgeable. And anyone who had been in school as long as I had, knew that knowledge was power.

The only problem was finding out; how much knowledge did he have?

"Hm, well that would count me out. I'm certainly not one of Chi's close inner circle. We hadn't even spoken since we were children until recently." There. If Seung-Ro to dispute my claim, he'd have to come up with a solid explanation.

I watched Seung-Ro's face, waiting for the explanation to come.

Except it never did. Seung-Ro's eyes deepened, although I couldn't really say they darkened, and his mouth stretched into a slight smile that was turned, but not sinister. He reached out and touched my forearm again, and I let him, although I couldn't tell you if it was out of trust or a stunned fear of moving.

"Attachments do not take long to form." His voice was low, but not dangerous; grave, but not panicked. "Especially when they are meant to be."

I stood there, stunned for a moment. It was too much for a coincidence, so how could I ignore it? On the other hand, would it be safer to play dumb? "I don't know what you're talking about, Seung-Ro," I finally said, going for a happy, ambiguous middle.

"I think, Ha-Na, that you might." His voice took on the same tone as before; it was all-knowing, yet because I knew that he knew something that I couldn't quite call him up on, the result was more maddening than anything else.

"Oh, do I?" I tried to stand a little taller, though my height had nothing on Seung-Ro's. I thought these historical people were supposed to be nutritionally deficient.

For the long pause that I spent waiting for my answer, it was like time stood still. Maybe it was because I was, in fact, anticipating his next reaction. Or maybe it was because I knew that he knew something.

But Seung-Ro never spoke. Not in the reactive way I had expected. The hand that was on my arm moved up to my shoulder, which he gave a light squeeze, before dropping. "You do," he said. "As Prince Chi and King Ju's advisor, and trusted family friend, many people expect me to have all answers. This is untrue. But what I do know, is that we all have an intuitive sense. Some of us have it more strongly than others, but some people simply know how to listen to it well." He eyes leveled with mine. "I think, Miss Ha-Na, that you have a strong intuition. If you can only learn to listen to it, I believe—no—I know that you can let it be your guide."

Seung-Ro stayed comfortably positioned. He smiled with contentment—although I could have sworn there was a bit, just the smallest bit, of sadness laced in his smile. "You may not realize it quite yet, Ha-Na. But I think that you do know, and that you will only know more in the days to come."

I gaped at him. It felt like a bunch of sputtering nonsense, and yet on some, very deep level, I felt like there was some truth to the words he spoke. His presence was always disquieting, but I wondered if that was because he was truly sinister or if he was simply honest. Despite everything, I was inclined to believe the second.

Seung-Ro gave my hand a pat, before bowing in farewell. "Go speak to your Chi," he said. I think—you'll find some comfort there, at least.

My mind raced as I continued to try piecing Seung-Ro's words together. I was about to thank him—even if I didn't entirely know what for—when I realized he was already gone.