The Man Who Won the World (1)

THE MAN WHO WON THE WORLD (1)

O. E. Boroni

Copyright © 2017 by O. E. Boroni

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in book reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events and places in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

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Cover Design: Elias Awili

To Abba and Ene,

I owe you both, everything.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

AUTHOR’S NOTE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

OTHER BOOKS BY O. E. BORONI

CHAPTER ONE

The Winds of Autumn

The moment the night came, gloomy, and bitter, and cold, the Joryeo Imperial Palace was regarded by those residing within its walls as a burial ground. None had ever been laid to rest within it, not even its monarchs, however the grounds had drank more than its share of the blood of countless souls.

It was well past the Rat’s hour (11pm - 1am) as the [1]Musuri returned from the laundry bureau, south of the palace. Her steps were hurried, and her heart pounded erratically within her chest as she sped towards her living quarters as quickly as she could.

The hours between that of the Rat and the [2]Tiger were the deadliest, as within these hours, the suspicions rose, impatience flourished, and blades were swung with less caution.

Things could quickly turn sour for her at such an ungodly hour, thus when her path eventually collided with a group of six Imperial guards on patrol, she froze, a gasp dissolving the life within her. The stack of court robes she had cradled against her bosom left her hands and fell to the ground. She did not dare breathe.

The blazing torch that guided the guards was extended towards her. Clothed in the shadows, the guards assessed her, taking in her faded, grey, top robe, and dark, full skirt cinched at the waist by a pink apron.

Of what bureau do you belong? one of the guards asked, his voice as cold as the night.

S-ssedapbang, she stuttered. T-the Laundry Bureau. Her fingers trembled as she pointed to the clothes on the ground. Those belong to Court lady Park Yunhee from the youngest Prince’s palace.

Why are you just now returning?

"I am not just returning, she replied. I-I mean I am, but I’d had to head back to the courtyard to fetch them. I-I’d forgotten them- earlier."

Tears began to well up in her eyes, and it drove the soldier a step backwards.

Please spare me, she pleaded. "[3]Mama-nim will have my head if I do not get these clothes to her."

Be on your way. The soldier said, and the pleas were stolen from her tongue. She stared at him in disbelief.

This instant! he barked.

With a bow to the guard, she dashed for the clothes and then took off.

This will never happen again, she swore, her steps almost at a run. She did not look back, the clothes pressed to her chest, and the sound of her still erratic heartbeat mocking her terror at nothing.

There were no sounds around apart from those of her steps, but suddenly, the wind carried to her what sounded like the clang of dark, clay roof tiles. Her feet came to a halt, arms trembling of their own accord.

Slowly, she looked around… and then towards the roof of the Kyujanggak- the Imperial Library a few paces from where she stood. She saw nothing, except for the darkened needles of a pine tree on the opposite end of the building. The moon was hidden from sight, and she cursed at it for failing to illuminate her way. With a deep breath, she consoled herself. You fear for nothing, silly girl.

She resumed her hurried pace. However, it was but a few short moments later that she heard the undeniable thud of bodies dropping to the ground.

Death! 

When the clang of swords in the distance confirmed her suspicion, she broke into a dead run. The clothes fell from her arms and unto the dirt ground, leaving behind the tale of her terror as she dashed all the way back to her quarters.

A little ways from where she had stood, lay the six guards that had stopped her. They were now dead, daggers stabbed into their necks and hearts, the life that had once sustained them now trickling out unto the earth like red, slithering snakes. 

The assassins were four masked men, dressed as shadows.

Silently pulling the bodies to a corner, they discarded their clothes and took those of the dead guards. Then they fell into step, torch in hand, and marched towards the residence of the Emperor’s most favored concubine- Lady Im Minjee.

∞

Jiyong was settled on the raised wooden terrace of his home.

A few steps from him was a wooden platform upon which his two elder brothers sat, and before them was their father in a black-lacquered chair, a walking stick by his side.

His father, Choi Muyeol, was sharing with them a tale, one that had reached Jiyong’s ears off the streets of the Capital more times than he could recall. It was the legend of the General, Gwon Hyosun. His father’s voice was strong, and smooth, washing a warmth over him that he wanted never to cease.

"The General wondered if it was all a dream, his father said, as he wandered through streets of gold as dust."

"Gold as dust? Ilseong interrupted, his tone full of amused disbelief. [4]Abeoji, that sounds insane." He turned to his elder brother Hyesung, eager to find in his eyes the agreement to his sentiment. The smile fell from his face when he saw that his brother paid him no mind.

Hyesung sat with his legs folded beneath him, and his whole attention on their father.

"[5]Hyeong," Ilseong called.

Their father watched as he timidly placed his plump hand upon Hyesung’s leaner ones. Hyesung shot him a look, and pulled his hand away.

"You are correct [6]Hyeongnim, came Jiyong’s soft response. But there exists even stranger variations of it. Some swear the streets were made of salt, while other say it-"

Salt? Ilseong spat. That has to be the densest thing that has ever left your lips. How can-

Will you both quiet yourselves? Hyesung snapped, his nostrils flared in annoyance. Abeoji, please carry on.

Their father smiled at the younger boys, and went on with his story. Azaleas, fox gloves, and tulips with more beauty than his eyes had ever beheld, lined the path he walked upon.

Surely, none of these can compare to the beauty of the plum blossom trees atop the mountains, Ilseong interrupted again. The goddess Cheonmyunsin, planted those herse-

He caught himself then, and his eyelids fell closed in shame. Once again, he had failed to tame his tongue and had spoken out of turn. Their father was far from offended. He responded to him in a fond tone.

"The tale goes that the General thought even the Maehwa blossoms paled in comparison. he said. More wonderment followed, and some say he even sighted the Heavenly Palace in the distance. However, he was overwhelmed, perhaps with fear, and dropped to his knees, at a loss as to where he was. Try as he may, he could not grasp unto a single thread of memory prior to this incident. All he could reckon with, was a knowing that at this juncture in time, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Some say that he heard a sudden hiss by his side that caused him to scamper away, and when he turned back around, he met the gaze of a mighty, black snake.

It knifed a chill through his heart. The thing eventually slithered off on its own, but as it left, his vision blurred…

Then, he saw."

T'was a spirit, was it not? Hyesung spoke up, unable to further restrain the anxiety he felt.

Their father was delighted at the children’s absorption in his narration. This was a story that could never be heard within the walls of the Imperial Palace, or any government establishment within the Empire. Sharing such a tale was at the cost of one’s head, but on the streets, he knew it was alive- spread about by the elderly, who were once told the stories by their own parents. Perhaps he erred by continuing the tradition, but just like the General, he felt strongly that at this juncture in time, it was the right thing to do.

Choi Muyeol’s gaze went to Jiyong, the boy’s frail arms around his knees in an embrace. His clothes were as rags, whatever color they had once been now worn out beyond belief. His older children on the other hand, had no need for clothes as such as they were students at one of the Capital’s private schools. This little one however, was a peddler, and the fact somewhat broke his heart because there was little he could do to change it.

Jiyong, he called. What do you think he saw?

His brothers turned to watch for his response, and the boy’s head fell to hide his eyes. He spoke in a small voice.

I do not know, Abeoji.

His father was certain the boy held some sort of inkling, and it troubled him that he chose to restrain himself when he was amongst them. He had heard from [7]Harabeoji that at the tavern, the boy was a vocal and jolly spirit, but amongst his kin, he grew disturbingly timid.

Suddenly, the wound in Choi Muyeol’s leg demanded his full attention with a painful jab.

It cost him a breath.

Briefly shutting his eyes, Choi Muyeol judged the strength of his tolerance against the pain, and decided to carry on. His gaze returned to the older boys, ready to resume his narration, but when his mind remained on the wound, he knew it would be too painful to carry on. So with a heavy sigh, he picked up his walking stick, and brought himself to his feet.

The disappointment on Hyesung’s face was disheartening. Abeoji, He complained.

Ilseong however seemed glad, already down from the platform to wring out the creaks from his chubby frame. Jiyong remained where he was.

I'll resume the tale at a later date, their father said, and turned to walk away. Jiyong jumped to his feet, and headed over to his father’s side.

Retire to your beds! Muyeol ordered the two older boys, and stepped into his room. Jiyong helped him settle on the floor, his injured leg stretched out before him. Then he went off to fetch his medicine.

∞

[8]Soyong Im Minjee sat atop the embroidered floor mattress in her quarters, as her attendant lady ran a boxwood comb down her shiny, dark hair.

The seasoned woman’s touch compared to that of a lovers’, its gentle continuous movement loosening her hold on the page of the novel she held between her fingers. She groaned with delight, and the sound made the Attendant lady giggle. After fixing the hair into a long braid, the attendant rose and bowed to her.

"[9]Mama, she said. I will be by your door should you need me."

Alright, the Concubine replied, running her hand down the braid. Myungok-ah, she called, just as the attendant was about to leave.

I fancy a dessert. I foresee myself reading far into the night so I will need them to keep me company. Some yuja punch and honey cookies will do, and make sure to add more pine nuts to the punch.

Ye, mama, the attendant responded with a bow, her full, navy blue skirt shuffling around her as she turned to leave.

Concubine Minjee returned her attention to her novel.

A few moments later, she heard a scream from beyond her quarters and her head shot up in alarm. She paid attention, her delicate brows drawn together in a frown.

What was going on?

She was about to call for an inquiry when she heard the terrified gasp of her attendant lady. Her hands fell from the page as the woman was brought into the room.

There was a guard from the palace army in her quarters, and he had taken her attendant lady captive. The woman had been spun around to face her, hands roughly pinned to her back, and a brute hand across her mouth. Her eyes were widened in horror as she struggled to free herself, a troubled vein lining the side of her forehead like a scar.

The glint of tears in the court lady’s eyes shone at her as they shifted to the man that walked in then. He too was dressed in the military uniform belonging to the Palace army: a blood red sleeveless vest, worn over a dark sleeved inner robe with overlapped white columns at the neck, and a wide brimmed hat with a hemisphere top. Concubine Minjee was overwhelmed with confusion.

What is the meaning of this? she demanded, her heart in her throat.

There was no response.

She started to rise to confront them, but as the man drew his sword from its scabbard, the blade flashing through the air like lightening, she withdrew in terror.

Who are you? she asked, her breath deserting her. What do you want?

Again, there was no response.

The man strode across the room without meeting her eyes. She thought to scream but not a sound rose to her throat. Something told her it would be pointless, and she believed it. She curled herself into a ball and shut her eyes, her entire frame crippled with fear as she prayed to [10]Hwanin to save her.

The blade rose, bold and majestic… and then came down on her with a slash through the air. It cut into the sleeve of her white cotton robe, and across her back, digging deep into her pale flesh and hitting bone.

He was far from finished.

The instant she uncurled herself with a cry, he flipped the sword’s hilt and thrust it into her side, the blade piercing through her flesh, as swift as the wind.

First came the numbness… and then the blinding pain that spread throughout her body like a disease. She couldn’t move as tears filled her eyes, tiny gasps that let out what little life remained within escaping from her lips. Her vision began to blur as she stared up at her attacker, but it remained clear enough for her to watch as he retrieved a small ink brush from the pocket within his sleeve. 

He lowered himself, and soaked the bristles in the red patch of blood spreading across the white of her side. Her hand rose to push his away, but he avoided the measly bother and took the brush to the folding screen behind her. She watched as his hand scribbled something on it.

Her eyelids felt as heavy as rocks, but she fought against the weariness, needing to see his scribble, needing to at least know for what reason she would be losing her life. Just before he pulled away however, all of her strength seeped from her, enclosing her in a darkness she feared would be forever.

When her attendant saw what he had drawn on the wall, her heart failed her.

The moment her captor took his hand from her mouth, her scream pierced through the night like the agonized howl of a wolf. Sickened with fear, her eyes rolled back into her head as she fell to the floor in a dead faint.

∞

Jiyong took the tray to his father- a white cloth, an earthenware bowl steaming with gaejong tonic, and a long spoon atop it.

He opened the door to meet the older man seated with his back slouched in discomfort, and gaze lost on the cabinet against the wall. He stirred as Jiyong came in, and watched as he placed the tray on the hanji covered floor.

"[11]Halmoni instructed me to include liquorice root," Jiyong said.

With a nod, his father brought the bowl to his lips and took a long drink. I taste honey, he noted as he returned the bowl to the tray.

Ye, Jiyong bowed slightly. I used it to process the herbs so as to enhance the taste.

You did well. His father took the bowl once more to drain the rest of the brown liquid. However, when Jiyong rose to take his leave, his father stopped him.

Remain a while, he said. How were things at Halmoni’s tavern today?

Things were well, Abeoji. he responded. Harabeoji and I harvested a lot of vegetables at the farm. It was more than what Halmoni could keep so I was sent to sell the remainder to the vendors at the Namdong market.

A frown appeared on his father’s face. Does he mean to also turn you into a merchant? The field and tavern are already too tasking for a child.

Jiyong’s smile came out of hiding. "[12]Animida Abeoji. T’was a delight. The vendors are always courteous, and one [13]ahjumma even sent me away with some rice cakes. They were delicious," he added shyly.

His father grunted his approval. I’m glad you find it pleasant.

Choi Muyeol thought to himself that perhaps he was mostly to blame for the distance between them. If it were not for his injury, he would have probably still been buried in his work at the palace with too little time to spend with his sons. Sighing heavily, he lifted his gaze to watch the little boy.

Jiyong was a filial child. He had long expected a rebellion from him as to why his brothers attended a Seodang, while he was made to dig up radishes from a field, and serve as a meagre hand at a tavern. The ten year old boy spent his days washing bowls and hawking vegetables, while his brothers learnt amongst the children of the noble in the Empire. Yet not a word of protest had ever fallen from his lips. His father itched to discover the reason for his meekness, but he feared that in asking, the boy would in turn demand the reason for his exile to the world of the [14]Sangmin. Choi Muyeol was as yet unready to give a response.

Jiyong, he called.

Ye, Abeoji.

"Has the ‘Legend of the General’ reached your ears before?"

The boy took a few moments to ponder on his response. Ye.

Why then did you choose to remain silent when I asked?

[15]Choesonghabnida, Abeoji. Jiyong replied, his voice faint with remorse. I-I was not certain of what my response should be.

What do you mean?

"Abeoji, there exist many accounts of General Gwon Hyosun, therefore, I could not decide from whence to draw my response."

What are these accounts you have heard of? His father asked quietly.

Some say the General never left our world, but instead dreamt a vision and saw with his eyes the gods that reside in our world. The sanshin(household god), cheonmyunsin (the mountain goddess), gwishin (the dark spirits), and the yongwang (the five gods of the undersea). They told him of the war that was to come, and how it would claim countless lives.

The taste in his father’s mouth turned sour. He did consider the ‘existence of a sovereign being that had created the world and ruled over it’ to hold some truth, but that was as far as his heart could tolerate on the subject. The ‘sovereign god, and the others’ as mentioned by the boy, he had nothing to do with. He expected nothing less of his children.

"Others say he met with Hwanin himself, and was shown the war. He was allowed to see the catastrophe it would cause, and it was such that our land would never recover from. Then he was…"

Jiyong paused, uneasy at his father’s stern gaze.

"[16]Malhae, his father said. Don't hold your words."

"Then he was given the Cheongyusa- the Heaven’s Memorabilia. Within it were written the secrets to the powers of the world.

He was to use it to guide the King of the West- the King of Jihye. The General’s counsel would make him as wise and powerful as Hwanin himself, as that was the only way he would be able to unite the ever warring Kingdoms as one."

Do you believe that? his father asked. Why would Hwanin give power as much as he possesses to a mere mortal man?

I do not know, Abeoji. Jiyong replied. "But people swear the King of Jihye indeed came to possess unearthly powers. The things he did, they say, were naturally impossible, especially as his Kingdom was amongst the weakest. With a few soldiers he was able to conquer thousands, and by his words, peace was wrought across the land. However, in the years that followed, he met his death and so did his heir. His grandson took to the throne as Emperor over Joryeo, and that was when the troubles began.

It is said that he constantly refused the counsel of the General, and eventually killed him. Others say that the general escaped with his life and took the Cheongyusa with him, and it was from then on that the nation began to fall apart. He lost the favor of the people and they deemed him accursed, as he no longer had the backing of the heavens. The Majudong Kingdom swept in then, and that was how Jihye lost the throne. However-"

That's enough! His father suddenly ordered, turning his face away. These are all just mere tales, do not give your attention to any of them.

Jiyong was silent for a few moments, disheartened at his father’s response. He had hoped for some clarity, and if it were possible, a discussion on the matter as he had been so very curious for so long. It made him wonder then, why his father had started to tell them the story earlier. He wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to heighten his father’s discomfort, so he decided to let the matter be. With a sigh, he rose to his feet and exited the room. Outside, he met the stars completely disappeared from sight, and the clouds heavy with rain.

He started to head to the kitchen when the agonized neigh of a horse startled him to a halt, the tray in his small hands almost toppling to the earth. He heard the thundering of hooves on the dirt road that led to their home, and looked up in time to see two military officers ride into their compound.

They were dressed as palace army guards, comrades of his father, he was certain, but they were in too much of a haste for him to make out their faces. He scrambled out of their way as they jumped down from their horses, and in no time, they were at his father’s door.

One of the guards fixed his cold gaze on Jiyong, and it unsettled him. The other knocked purposefully on the door, and listened for his father’s response. They announced themselves, and his father allowed them entrance.

Jiyong waited until the men had gone in, before turning around and continuing on his way towards the kitchen.

∞

Choi Muyeol looked up at the two men as they came into the room.

Park Joowon, a stocky, vigorous soldier he had been acquainted with since their days at the military academy, and Suh Dongju, his direct opposite. Towering over most men in height, he held a thoughtful and calculative spirit towards all things.

Choi Muyeol was surprised to see them, and wondered at the reason for their visit. One look at their countenance told him that things were not well.

"[17]Changun!" They greeted with a bow.

Take a seat, he said, and they joined him on the floor. What is the matter?

Joowon sighed deeply. "Changun, he said. The palace was infiltrated again."

"[18]Mweora? Muyeol roared. How did that happen?"

The exact same way as the earlier two attacks, Dongju said. "In the face of the heightened security within and without the palace, they still somehow managed to find their way in. They found no trouble murdering the guards, and making their way to Soyong Im Minjee’s residence. The entire palace is in disarray."

What of the guards stationed at her residence? Muyeol asked. More than two dozen men were assigned to her safety!

"Dead! Joowon responded. They’re all dead. Their corpses lay scattered like flies all around her quarters."

Choi Muyeol forced himself to take a deep breath. His eyes had turned red with fury. How many were they this time?

Dongju responded, Of that, we are yet uncertain, but it seems they were fewer now than at their attack on Prince Taewon. This time they would not surpass six men.

So six men were able to slip through a palace army of four thousand? Choi Muyeol’s voice was thick with bitterness. As if in mocking response, the wound in his left leg began to throb painfully, reminding him of his army’s glaring inability to protect the Imperial family.

He stared down at the bandage cloth wrapped around his leg, shielding the deep wound he had suffered in his attempt to thwart one of the assassins on their mission against Prince Taewon. He had trained in the mastery of the sword from the time he had been but a boy, and was widely recognized as one of the most formidable swordsmen in the Kingdom. However, these assassins had been as ghosts- visible only when they deemed it fit to be, and quicker than the swing of his sword.

He lowered his head with a torn heart, and pounded his palm against the floor.

"Changun, Park Joowon consoled. We will get to the bottom of this."

Ignoring the soldier’s comment, he raised his head. "How badly was Soyong Im hurt?"

Suh Dongju sighed. "It appears quite fatal, Changun."

Worse than the last two?

Ye. Her quarters is packed with the Imperial physicians, and they are fighting to save her life. She had already lost so much blood before they could begin her treatment. She received a slash across her back, and a clean thrust through her side.

Choi Muyeol frowned. This is more brutal than the last two. Did they mean to kill her?

It appears so,