Eui let out a long sigh as she left Cho Sook-Joo’s home. She’d left her with another unopened bottle of soju, the tokens of invitation, and enough coin to handle her living expenses for at least a year, on top of the other promises. Seong Misun regarded her archly as Eui rejoined her escort.
“Satisfied?”
Eui shook her head.
“No. Honestly that was even more painful than I thought it would be, but it’s not about my satisfaction.”
“Isn’t it? Tell me, if the loss of her husband created a wound, do you think you helped close that wound today, or did you just tear it open further?”
“I don’t know. How much would admission for three to Songdo’s colleges cost?”
Misun gave her an unimpressed look at the change of subject.
“It’s not just a matter of money, An Eui. The mage colleges are prestigious institutions. You attended a preparation school yourself, didn’t you? You should know full well just how competitive they are.”
“And? How much?”
The princess scoffed.
“It could be arranged, but you’d better slow down. That’s a long list and you absolutely cannot afford that kind of thing for all of them.”
“I know. This one’s a special case.”
“Why? Because you just so happened to benefit more from that particular act of banditry? I honestly don’t even know why you care so much.”
Eui shook her head and sighed.
“I don’t know either. But it’s important to me.”
“Do you want my advice?”
“No.”
Misun smiled darkly.
“Too bad. You should stop here. If Cho Sook-Joo really was such a special case, then just leave it at that. You don’t owe these people anything, and seeing you is only going to reopen wounds that have long since closed.”
“I feel like I do. At the very least, I need to see them. To put names and faces to the people who I’ve hurt.”
“Then it’s for you after all. That’s fine, but you have to be honest with yourself about it. Don’t drag these poor people into your strange journey of self-flagellation.”
Eui scowled.
“What am I supposed to do, then? Just ignore it? Pretend that my past never happened?”
Misun sighed.
“I didn’t say that. If you want to help the people you’ve hurt, then that’s your prerogative. I’d even go as far as to say it’s quite noble of you. But in your obsession with accountability, you’ve gone too far in the other direction.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That scar—I know you could get rid of it if you wanted to. Knowing how they work, I bet you could have removed it years ago, but you don’t. You want people to hate you—to gasp in fear and disgust at the sight of your brand. You said yourself that your visit with Miss Cho was more painful than expected, but you did expect pain. I think it was even the point.”
Eui crossed her arms and frowned. She wanted to protest, but Seong Misun was probably right. Part of her thought she deserved the hatred. Was she doing as Misun said—dragging innocent people into her own elaborate ritual of self-harm?
“It’s not like that. At least—I didn’t mean for it to be. I just thought that they deserved closure.”
Misun sighed.
“If they haven’t found it by now, they’re not going to—least of all in you. Go on and perform your acts of charity. Meet them if you must—so that you don’t forget their faces, or whatever. But don’t tell them who you are or why you’re doing it. That part is for you—they don’t need to know.”
She had a point. Eui didn’t like it, but as she kept insisting, it wasn’t about what she liked. Ultimately, no matter how ‘noble’ the act may be, Eui was doing it for herself. If she had to do it, then she owed it to these people to do it in a way that caused as little harm as possible, even if it made her uncomfortable.
“Why are you telling me all this, anyway?”
“Because believe it or not, I don’t actually relish seeing you suffer. If I’m going to be following you around on this ridiculous pilgrimage of self-imposed restitution, I’d rather you weren’t miserable the entire time. It makes for poor company.”
Eui smirked.
“That’s a pretty roundabout way to say you don’t like seeing your friend get hurt.”
The princess rolled her eyes.
“As always, you think far too highly of yourself. Don’t be so presumptuous. Is there anyone else we need to visit in Nayeong, or can we move on already?”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
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Thanks to Misun’s advice, most of the remaining trips went much more smoothly. Most were suspicious, but pleasantly surprised when Eui immediately made good on her promise to pay back the debts she owed. Some were happy enough to leave it at that, but a select few pressed her on how exactly she knew her victims and why she was bothering to proactively pay back such old debts.
Those were the difficult ones.
Rather than spin up some elaborate lie or try to dodge the question forever, Eui could only give them the honest truth. Each reaction was unique, and Eui did her best to handle each one as gracefully as she could. Anger, sadness, quiet acceptance—inevitably, the truth would reopen wounds that should have remained closed.
By far the hardest, however, was a man named San Hajoon. Magus San was the brother of her first victim—the only one that Eui truly regretted.
San Chungho was a traveling merchant who had found Eui starving to death on the road, taken her into his camp, fed her, and allowed her to travel with him. He’d known that she was an exile, given how impossible it was to miss the freshly healing brand on her forehead, but that hadn’t been worth even a moment of hesitation.
He had given her aid freely, and without judgment. Then, as they had approached San’s destination, Eui panicked. What would happen to her once he left? Would he report her to the local militia? Would she simply go back to starving to death?
Eui would never learn what San Chungho had planned. When he caught her trying to steal his horse and as many supplies as she could carry, she silenced him forever so that he wouldn’t be able to report her act of banditry.
The second person she’d ever killed, and the first who hadn’t deserved it. A completely senseless act of violence, driven by fear and desperation—one which Eui could never forgive herself for, even if she had learned to live with the guilt.
Magus San Hajoon doubted her from the very first moment of their meeting.
“You are not who you claim to be, Miss An Eui. I knew all of my brother’s associates, and after his death I personally ensured that his estate was settled. In the first place, your very existence doesn’t make any sense. An exiled mage is rare enough, but one who’s been pardoned—much less accompanied by a princess—is impossible.”
Eui sighed. From his home and his aura, she could sense that San Hajoon was extremely fastidious, and he had a serious personality. Though he was only a second stage magus, his enhanced perception was exacerbated by the sort of observational skills that a person only gained through committed practice.
“Why invite me in if you’re so suspicious of my motivations?”
He shook his head.
“It’s not your motives I question. You’re far more powerful than I, and accompanied by a member of the Seong clan. If you had ill intentions, there would be no reason for you to hide them. Frankly, I don’t think I’m important enough to warrant such attention, which means this must be personal—but again, if you knew my brother, then I would have known you, and I don’t.”
Eui frowned.
“Do you really want to know?”
“The way you asked implies you don’t think I do, but I’d like to judge that for myself.”
“Well, how do you think I knew him?”
Magus San sat back in his seat and took a drink and he considered the question—Eui silently thanked Cho Sook-Joo for the idea of sharing drinks.
“If I had to guess, you’re the person who killed him. At some point you must have been reformed, and you regret the act. Knowing Chungho, it’s easy enough to see why. I can’t fathom what must have occurred between then and now for you to end up as an associate of the crown, but it’s the only option that fits.”
Eui scowled.
“That is...so frustratingly accurate it hurts. You’re not looking for work, are you?”
“I’m happy in my current position, thank you.”
Though he was taking it in stride, outwardly, Eui could sense a complicated cocktail of volatile emotions roiling away beneath the surface of Magus San’s placid expression.
“So now you know. I owe you a debt that can’t be repaid, but something is better than nothing, so I’m here to offer restitution.”
He nodded solemnly.
“I understand. That said, I’m fairly satisfied with my current lot in life. Materially, I want for very little. The only piece of your debt which has any meaning to me is the part that you cannot repay.”
“Then what would you have me do? And please don’t tell me to kill myself—it’s really annoying.”
“That would be meaningless, even if you wouldn’t obviously deny the request. What I would like from you, Miss An, is something only you can offer. I want you to tell me about my little brother’s final moments.”
Eui blinked.
“Uh...you want me to tell you about how I killed him?”
“Not in so many words. You knew Chungho well enough to carry the weight of his death with you for all these years. I doubt that your encounter was a brief one. Tell me about it.”
“Okay, I guess. If you’re sure. When he first encountered me, I was dying...”
Magus San Hajoon listened attentively as she told her story. Eui was extremely self-conscious about coloring the tale with her bias, and tried to stick to only the plain facts. The mage interjected frequently, asking clarifying questions and forcing her to explain her thoughts anyway.
The conversation stretched on for hours, as Magus San drew out more and more of her story, even going as far back as the original reason for her exile, and a very heavily abbreviated tale of her time in the academy and how she turned her life around.
When Eui was finished, San Hajoon just smiled sadly.
“He always was a bit of a fool. Too kind for his own good. Do you know what would have happened if you’d left yourself in his care?”
Eui went pale.
“I...don’t think I want to know.”
“All the more reason for me to tell you, then. He would have come to me, begging to find a way to help you. To appeal for a pardon or otherwise find a way to harbor you. I wasn’t in as high a position back then, but I’d have done my best. I can’t promise that we’d have succeeded in getting you a full pardon—especially with the Sun and Yeong clans against us—but you would not have gone hungry.”
She’d been afraid it was something like that. That in her fear and paranoia she’d killed an innocent man for no reason at all—even making her own situation worse as a result.
“I’m so...so sorry.”
“I know. And I forgive you.”
Eui’s head jerked up.
“What?!”
“I’m not a particularly forgiving man. You can’t be in my line of work. I see criminals like you daily, and all of them have a story—a reason for their actions. After a while, you become deaf to it. They’re always sorry once they face the consequences of their actions.”
“Then...why?”
He smiled wryly.
“Because he would. Chungho would have understood. If his ghost were here, he’d be begging me not to hold it against you—not to judge you too harshly. So in his memory, and as thanks for telling me his final story, I forgive you.”
“I don’t want your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it.”
“I don’t care. Nor would he. Consider your debt repaid, Miss An. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Eui shook her head, fruitlessly trying to wipe the tears from her eyes.
“N-no. Thank you.”
Somehow, San Hajoon’s solemn forgiveness was infinitely more painful than Cho Sook-Joo’s seething hatred ever could be.