Ryang and Norahn walked side by side down the tunnel. Norahn's gaze remained fixed on the ground, but he occasionally stole glances at Ryang's shoulders. The flickering torchlight danced across the fine fabric of Ryang's dark green robes, highlighting the meticulous stitching and the elegant lines of his collar. Ryang's posture was impeccable, his back straight, his shoulders squared. Norahn envied his effortless grace, even as he scorned it as vanity.

Ryang had inherited the position of High Councilor upon his father's death. People had initially been wary of the young man, barely twenty-two, stepping into the role previously held by his seasoned and experienced father. But their doubts had quickly dissipated. As Ryang grew accustomed to his new title, shedding the image of a pampered young nobleman, those around him learned to obey. Even Kyeongseon Ung, his uncle and former martial arts instructor, bowed his head in deference.

Norahn knew firsthand the challenges of commanding respect. He, too, had ascended to the position of High Emissary Divine upon his father's death, even earlier than Ryang. But his authority extended only to the Emissaries, and even among them, some, like Cheongro, remained defiant. The soldiers, though they revered Norahn as a spiritual leader, always bowed first to Ryang. Norahn acknowledged Ryang's political acumen, his ability to wield power effectively. But a part of him believed that Ryang's influence stemmed solely from his close relationship with Cheon Seong. Perhaps, Norahn mused, if he had held a fraction of Cheon Seong's affection, things would have turned out differently today. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Upon reaching their destination, Ryang opened the door for Norahn, ushering him into his chambers. It had been years since Norahn had stepped foot in Ryang's personal space. The air was thick with the scent of incense and ink. Though scrolls and documents were piled high on the desk, they were neatly organized, each stack carefully arranged. An awkward silence fell as Ryang closed the door behind them.

"That was an overreaction," Norahn finally said, his back still turned towards Ryang.

Ryang walked past him, picking up a teapot from the table. He poured a cup of lukewarm tea and offered it to Norahn, who declined with a slight shake of his head. Ryang, parched, downed the tea in a single gulp, the liquid soothing his dry throat.

"What exactly was the overreaction?" he asked. "The fact that the Guardian Crimson slaughtered the Emissaries? Or that she openly defied our Guardian?"

Norahn's eyes, usually downcast, flickered upwards, their blue intensity piercing through the hood of his white robe. "She said she wasn't responsible," he replied.

"Knowing the truth and remaining silent makes you complicit," Ryang countered.

"She is the Celestial Scion, the Guardian Crimson, sent by Sahngjon," Norahn argued. "There must be a reason we don't understand."

"A reason?"

"Perhaps it's just a test."

Norahn's apparent indifference to the tragedy angered Ryang. "That sounds familiar," he remarked.

Norahn, stung by the barb, lowered his gaze.

"Every descendant of 12 houses inscribed in the Azure Scripture is the Scions," Ryang continued. "Before the Wi Dynasty's purge, the Scions were a dime a dozen. The Guardian's lineage doesn't grant her immunity, nor does it demand our blind obedience. Especially not under these circumstances."

"Not all the Scions are created equal," Norahn said.

Ryang's jaw tightened, but Norahn was not attentive. "Obedience and servitude are two different things," he said. "Confining her is an overreaction." Despite his calm facade, Norahn felt a surge of anxiety.

"We can revisit that once the Guardian Crimson explains herself," Ryang stated firmly.

"What are you planning to do?" Norahn asked.

"Stop pestering me," Ryang snapped. "I need time to think."

"You should have thought before making such an unreasonable request of the Guardian," Norahn retorted.

"Are you suggesting we should have let her continue her tirade?" Ryang countered. "Her words were practically treasonous."

"Treason is a matter between a ruler and their subjects."

"Then what? Is she the Guardian's sovereign?"

"She is certainly not one of his subjects," Norahn said. "She is not a rebel or an enemy either."

"Anyone who threatens the Guardian and Wicheong Palace," Ryang declared, "be it through unfaith, blind faith, or even the Guardian Crimson herself, is an enemy."

"That sounds like introspection," Norahn remarked.

Ryang's eyes narrowed as Norahn continued.

"The soldiers and Emissaries of Wicheong Palace endure hardship because of their faith in Sahngjon and the Azure Scripture. Do you honestly believe Wicheong Palace can remain strong after you've so publicly undermined the dignity of the Guardian Crimson?"

"You seemed quite content to stand by while our Guardian's dignity was undermined," Ryang retorted.

Norahn met his gaze calmly. "He is also the lord of the Ministry."

"That's rather obvious, isn't it?" Ryang scoffed.

Norahn's lips tightened into a thin line. Ryang glared at him, his anger simmering. After a tense silence, Norahn finally spoke.

"Are you questioning our loyalty?"

"I'm not ruling it out."

A faint smile played on Norahn's lips. "Doubt often casts a shadow," he said, "but in your doubts, many find clarity. Doubt may be a poison, but for you, High Councilor, it has been a source of strength. However, doubt alone cannot propel one forward. That requires faith."

"And do you know where we should be heading, and why?" Ryang asked.

Norahn remained silent.

"Don't forget," Ryang continued, "that it was blind faith that led Wi to its ruin."

"But should we doubt even what we see with our own eyes?" Norahn countered, his blue eyes flashing.

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"Even open eyes can deceive," Ryang replied.

Norahn's expression hardened, but Ryang knew further argument was futile.

"Where are the bodies of the fallen Emissaries?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I've ordered them to be laid in the Ministry."

Ryang imagined the Guardian Crimson, alone in the damp, dark chamber. She was the only one who could provide the answers they sought.

"I'll go there," Ryang said. "You should go to her."

"But you forbade anyone from approaching her," Norahn said.

"And who was it that secured that order?" Ryang retorted. "Don't you need to speak with her as well?"

"You could see her yourself."

"I'm sure she would much rather speak with the High Emissary Divine than with an irreverent skeptic," Ryang said.

He picked up a Command Tablet* from his desk and handed it to Norahn. Norahn tucked it into his sleeve.

"What is it you seek, High Councilor?" he asked

"Go and persuade her, or threaten her, if you must," Ryang replied. "Find out everything you can."

Norahn smiled faintly. "Even open eyes can deceive," he said, echoing Ryang's earlier words. "And can open ears be trusted to hear only the truth? In this fog of doubt, where even what we see and hear cannot be trusted, you will lose your way if you abandon the light of Sahngjon."

With a curt nod, he turned and left the room.

Ryang, left alone in his office, leaned back in his chair, his hand pressed against his throbbing forehead. He let out a long sigh, the weight of the recent events pressing down on him. The appearance of the Crimson Star had brought a series of unsettling events, and he struggled to decipher Sahngjon's will. Despite the undeniable miracle unfolding before their eyes, Sahngjon's presence felt distant and elusive.

Ryang didn't linger in his office. He rose and headed towards the Emissary's Office. Along the way, he encountered groups of soldiers huddled together, their voices hushed and anxious. Each time they saw Ryang, they fell silent, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and respect. Their forced silence filled Ryang with a sense of unease. The atmosphere in the Ministry was equally somber. The Emissaries were scattered across the floor, their bodies slumped against the walls, exhaustion evident in their postures. A heavy silence hung in the air.

Cheongro, spotting Ryang from afar, approached and bowed his head. "High Councilor."

"My condolences," Ryang offered, his voice softer than usual.

"Thank you," Cheongro replied. "I know you've also suffered a loss, High Councilor. My heart goes out to you."

Cheongro's words were a stark reminder that House Myeonghyeon had also lost two of their own. A pang of guilt struck Ryang. Deaths within the merchant company were common. Ships were lost at sea, ambushed by Soyeolish pirates. Those who disappeared on the sea were simply listed as missing. The compensation offered to their families could never truly replace their loved ones, and the unresolved nature of their deaths left a lingering sense of grief and uncertainty. The families, clinging to a sliver of hope, would often console themselves with the belief that their loved ones had found their way to Manyeol, a mythical island, a belief held by many on Birahng. Dara's father had also disappeared at sea, and Ryang had always carried a sense of guilt for her loss. But this time, there was no denying the deaths. Ryang could almost hear the wails of the grieving families.

Ryang pushed aside his troubled thoughts and surveyed the Emissaries moving about the room. He noticed a conspicuous absence among the somber faces.

"I don't see the Third Emissary," he remarked.

Cheongro, despite having berated Sobi earlier, felt guilty. He hadn't seen her since their confrontation. Though he doubted she would flee Wicheong Palace over such a disagreement, he couldn't deny that he had been harsh.

"She selected the Emissaries for the mission," he explained. "She's blaming herself for their deaths. She could barely walk when she returned, she was so distraught. You saw how she lashed out earlier. She's not thinking clearly."

Ryang felt a surge of regret for his own harsh treatment of Sobi. "As her superior, you should comfort her," he said. "Tragic events often lead to irrational thoughts."

"It seemed so," Cheongro replied.

Ryang's gaze fell upon a sword lying abandoned on the floor. He walked towards it, carefully picking it up. A foul stench, a mixture of blood and iron, clung to the blade. Dried bloodstains crusted the surface.

"Is this the sword that was found with her?" he asked.

"It is," Cheongro confirmed.

Ryang examined the sword, his eyes tracing the lines from the smooth, polished hilt to the dull, nicked blade. "Were the Emissaries armed?" he asked.

Cheongro scoffed. It was a ridiculous question. Since the fall of Wi, the Emissaries had been forbidden from carrying weapons. The absurdity of the question, and the pathetic state of the Ministry, brought a bitter laugh to his lips.

"Of course not."

"Why didn't you send armed soldiers with them?" Ryang pressed. "Didn't the High Commander provide an escort?"

"The Third Emissary was responsible for organizing the search party," Cheongro explained. "It seems she simply... overlooked it. They were searching near the coast..."

He was trying to defend Sobi, but Ryang wasn't buying it. "In this critical situation, there's no room for such negligence," he said sharply. "Anyone with a shred of common sense would have thought of that."

Cheongro's lips twitched in annoyance, but he held his tongue in front of the dead. Ryang didn't press further. He walked towards the bodies of the fallen Emissaries.

The dead lay in neat rows on the floor, their bodies covered with white sheets that did little to mask the coppery stench of blood. Ryang knelt beside them, his sleeve pressed against his nose and mouth, and gently lifted the sheets. His heart ached as he examined the bodies. He recognized one of the two merchant company men, but the other was a stranger, likely hired after Ryang had stepped back from his duties. His grip tightened on the sheet. Each body bore a single, fatal wound, a testament to the killer's skill and ruthlessness. Ryang turned to Cheongro.

"Are you certain there was no one else on that ship besides the Guardian?" he asked.

"There was no one," Cheongro replied. "If there had been, we would have brought them back."

The lack of defensive wounds suggested a swift and brutal attack. If a single person was responsible for this massacre, then, as far as he knew, there were only two individuals capable of such a feat: Cheon Hwan and Kyeongseon Joon. Joon, however, had been in Wicheong Palace the entire time, and his gentle nature made him an unlikely suspect. Cheon Hwan, on the other hand, was a different story. His whereabouts were unknown, his motives shrouded in mystery. Ryang rose and examined the sword the Emissaries had recovered. It was a plain, unadorned blade, its maker unknown.

"Who could have done this?" he murmured, his voice barely audible. "And why?"

"The Guardian Crimson said they were punished for serving a false Guardian," Cheongro offered casually.

Ryang froze, the air thick with tension. Cheongro shifted nervously, his eyes darting towards Ryang. With a flick of his wrist, Ryang reversed his grip on the sword, the blade now pointed at Cheongro's throat. The blade stopped just short of drawing blood, and Cheongro flinched, his eyes wide with fear. The other Emissaries gasped.

"Repeat that," Ryang said.

Cheongro’s face contorted in a sneer. "There are many witnesses," he stammered. "Perhaps you should control yourself."

"Indeed there are," Ryang countered, his grip tightening on the hilt.

The Emissaries exchanged terrified glances, their eyes darting between Ryang and Cheongro. A thin line of blood appeared on Cheongro's neck where the blade pressed against his skin.

"If I hear those words again from any of you," Ryang warned, "you will be beheaded."

Cheongro swallowed hard. Ryang withdrew the sword, the tension in the room easing slightly.

"Tell the High Emissary that I have taken the sword," he instructed.

With that, he turned and strode out of the Ministry, leaving a trail of stunned silence in his wake.

As Ryang disappeared down the tunnel, the Emissaries, who had been watching the confrontation with bated breath, cautiously approached Cheongro.

"Second Emissary," Siu, a young Novice Emissary, stammered, "your neck... it's bleeding."

Cheongro swatted her hand away. He touched the wound, his fingers coming away sticky with dried blood. "So, that scholar can wield a sword after all," he muttered. "Crazy viper. No wonder Sahngjon is punishing us. With someone like that whispering in the Guardian's ear..."

He recalled the tense exchange between Ryang and the Guardian Crimson, their words sharp as blades. It was clear that neither she nor Sahngjon himself favored Ryang.

"Stay awake everyone," Cheongro said. "We're not crawling in the shadows anymore."

*Command Tablet : A small token given by an authority figure to a subordinate as proof of authorization to carry out a specific command.