Myeonghyeon Ryang had been hunched over his desk for most of the day. The three days of Cheon Yong's funeral rites had come and gone, and still, Ryang remained at Wicheong Palace, unable to return to Nahmgyo. The ongoing search of the Ministry of Emissary Divine, fraught with difficulties, kept him tethered. Norahn, his patience waning, had grown weary of waiting for a divine revelation. With Cheon Seong's permission, he had mobilized a significant portion of the Emissaries and soldiers to scour the island, and Ryang was tasked with overseeing their efforts.

Reports piled up on Ryang's desk, delivered twice daily by the Ministry. Ryang reviewed each document with meticulous care, adding his insights and passing them on to Seong for approval. Today was no different. He was immersed in his work when a young Novice Emissary, Siu, entered the room, bowing respectfully.

"I've seen several Emissaries return to Wicheong, carried back due to exhaustion," Ryang said sternly. "Yet, there's no mention of this in the personnel reports."

"Yes, High Councilor, that is…" Siu stammered.

Ryang's gaze hardened. "This seems hardly an oversight, considering the thoroughness of the other reports."

Siu, flustered, blurted out, "It was the Second Emissary's order."

Ryang's eyes flickered to the seal of Norahn on the document. "And the High Emissary sanctioned it, I guess."

Ryang sighed, his gaze fixed on the young Emissary standing before him, her shoulders slumped with fear. There was no point in berating her further.

"Collect those documents and rewrite them," he instructed, gesturing towards the stack of papers.

"Yes, High Councilor," Siu replied, gathering the scattered sheets.

As she reached for another pile, Ryang's voice hardened. "Those are for the Guardian. Leave them be."

Siu fumbled with the papers, rearranging them hastily. She bowed deeply, then retreated from the room, her footsteps hurried. Ryang shook his head in frustration. The Ministry was filled with incompetence, its members either inept, delusional, or still clinging to their greed, even after the downfall of their nation. He marked the map of Birahng with the latest reports, the lines tracing the paths of the search parties. Nearly a third of the island was covered in markings, yet vast areas remained unexplored. The Ministry's progress was agonizingly slow.

Ryang set down his brush and exhaled, the tension in his shoulders radiating upwards. Five days had passed since the Star's descent, and the Ministry had yet to find any trace of it. Norahn's brute-force approach, deploying his forces with little strategy, was proving ineffective, exhausting both the Emissaries and the soldiers. Ryang's frustration grew, but he couldn't intervene yet, not without undermining Norahn's authority. The light in Norahn's eyes, the divine luminescence the Emissaries claimed to have witnessed that night, remained dormant. Their accounts were becoming harder to believe. With each passing day, the events of the past week seemed more like a fever dream, the reality of it all fading into a hazy uncertainty. The hope that had bloomed within Wicheong Palace was beginning to wither.

Ryang closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

"My Lord." A clear voice called from beyond the door, interrupting Ryang's contemplation. He straightened, his weariness momentarily forgotten.

"Enter," he said.

The door opened, and Dara stepped in, her gaze lowered respectfully. Ryang, his eyes shadowed with fatigue, addressed her curtly.

"What is it?"

Dara offered a thin smile. "It has been days, hasn't it?"

Ryang's brusque manner, his disregard for her presence, stung. "I’m sorry," he mumbled, attempting a smile that felt strained and insincere.

Dara swallowed her hurt, focusing on the urgent news she carried. "I've received important information from merchants arriving from Sunyahng," she began.

"Sunyahng?" Ryang's fatigue vanished, replaced by a keen alertness.

"Five Cannon Ships, their sails black, have departed from Sun River," Dara continued. "Their destination is here, Birahng."

Ryang's brow furrowed. Though they had anticipated a response from Dahn, the scale of the deployment was unexpected.

"Black sails?" he asked. "Who leads this fleet?"

"The king's third daughter, Princess Kyeong'ui," Dara replied. "She is accompanied by her betrothed, the second son of House Gahngyun. The warships are decorated for festivities, disguised as pleasure vessels..."

"It's no pleasure cruise,"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Ryang pondered the king's motives. Since its founding, Dahn had never sent a royal, let alone a high official, to Birahng. This indifference stemmed partly from their limited resources, but it was also a gesture of respect for the island's autonomy. Now, they were crossing the sea. Ryang couldn't quite grasp the king's intentions, but he sensed an underlying fear. There was much he needed to know.

"Did you learn when they set sail?" he asked Dara.

"Three days ago, I heard."

Ryang shook his head. "That's not possible. They should have arrived by now. Why would the news reach us before the fleet?"

"I'll investigate further," Dara replied.

Ryang fell silent, his mind awhirl with possibilities. Dara watched him, her gaze lingering on his face. His eyes were sunken, shadowed with fatigue, his jawline sharper than she remembered.

"My lord," she began, "shouldn't you rest? You look unwell."

"The Ministry is working tirelessly to locate the Star," Ryang replied. "Even the Guardian is growing anxious."

Dara remained silent. Ryang always deflected her concern, refusing even the smallest gestures of comfort, like the coat she had offered him on that cold night. She swallowed her hurt again. The silence stretched, and Ryang finally looked up. He, too, noticed her gaunt features, her slender neck seeming even more delicate than usual. Her eyes, wide and expressive, were accentuated by the freckles that dusted her cheeks.

"You seem to have lost weight," he observed.

"It's nothing," she replied, her voice bright, but her tone dismissive.

Her curt reply stung. Ryang, determined to bridge the gap, offered a rare gesture of warmth.

"If something troubles you, speak freely," he said. "I know I haven't been the most attentive master."

Dara's lips twitched almost imperceptibly, her gaze flickering nervously towards Ryang. A chill settled in his chest, an unfamiliar unease rising within him as he met her hesitant eyes. He quickly changed the subject.

"The princess seems rather young for such an expedition," he remarked. "She's barely come of age, hasn't she?"

Dara's gaze returned to him. "So is the Lady," she replied.

"That's why she's so reckless." Ryang sighed.

Dara shifted the conversation. "There are rumors that the star fell into the sea, southeast of here."

"The sea?"

"It's just a rumor, of course," Dara continued. "But if it's true, there's no way to confirm it."

Ryang frowned. The thought of the star, the beacon of hope they had waited for, sinking into the depths of the ocean seemed absurd. But rumors often held a grain of truth. If Dara's information was accurate, they needed to inform Norahn, to redirect the search. As Ryang fell into contemplation, Dara spoke again, drawing his attention.

"There's also talk among the Sunyahng merchants about the king's favoritism towards the princess. They say he dotes on her, while ruling with an iron fist. They find it strange that he would send his beloved daughter to such a isolated place, especially when Birahng harbors no fondness for the Dahn court."

Dara's words sparked a flicker of intrigue within Ryang. Why indeed had the king chosen his youngest child, overlooking his elder sons? He couldn't find the answer through mere contemplation.

"Those are just rumors," he said. "We need more concrete information. I need to know everything about the princess and her betrothed. Return to Nahmgyo immediately. Lord Seolyo receives regular dispatches from Sunyahng. She's bound to know more. If the princess is indeed en route, there must be official correspondence."

Dara understood his intent. "Will you write a letter to the governor, under your seal?" she asked.

"Of course," Ryang replied. "Wait here."

Ryang pulled out the chair beside him, offering it to Dara. She settled in, her gaze following his brush as he wrote the letter. Her proximity was unsettling, her youthful scent filling his senses. He struggled to focus, his mind wandering despite the urgency of the task. He glanced at her, and their eyes met, her gaze holding his captive. He froze, his body suddenly rigid. Dara leaned in, her lips capturing his in a sudden kiss. Ryang's hand, still clutching the brush, stilled. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, her tongue teasing his lips, a surprisingly bold and skillful exploration. When she finally pulled away, Ryang's face flushed, his words caught in his throat.

He forced his attention back to the letter, his hand moving mechanically across the page, Dara's presence a distracting warmth beside him. He finished the letter with a flourish, then folded it carefully, sealing it before handing it to Dara.

"Thank you," he said.

Dara accepted the letter, then rose and bowed her head respectfully. As she turned to leave, Ryang called out to her.

"Dara."

"Yes?" She turned back.

Ryang hesitated, his gaze darting around the room. "Will you be safe traveling alone? Perhaps I should send a few soldiers..."

"I prefer to travel alone," Dara replied with a gentle smile.

"You often travel alone," Ryang said. "It worries me. There are bandits, wild animals..."

Dara simply smiled. She bowed once more, then slipped out the door.

Ryang sat alone, his hands covering his face. "I’m insane," he whispered.

He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts, but the lingering taste of her kiss, the warmth of her touch, remained.

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Dara emerged from Wicheong Palace, her horse's hooves kicking up dust as she rode towards Nahmgyos. Reaching a secluded stretch of the path, she cast wary glances around her, her anxiety evident in her hurried movements. She turned onto a barely visible trail, guiding her horse deeper into the dense forest. After what seemed like an eternity, she spotted a familiar landmark, a moss-covered boulder nestled amongst the trees. Dismounting, she pushed against the heavy stone, her slender arms straining with the effort. Finally, it gave way, revealing a small hollow beneath. A white porcelain box lay nestled within the dirt. Dara retrieved a small bamboo tube from her pocket, its contents a tightly rolled scroll. She carefully placed it inside the box, securing the lid. With renewed effort, she pushed the boulder back into place, concealing the hidden compartment. She scattered fallen leaves over the disturbed earth, masking any sign of her presence. A lone squirrel, its head cocked in curiosity, watched her from a nearby branch. Dara mounted her horse and turned back towards Nahmgyo.