It was the beginning of evening. I sat on my bedding, looking at the ceiling. The room felt quieter than usual.

  I called for Eunchae and asked him to bring my three maids. He gave a small nod and left immediately.

  By nightfall, they were with me. The palace was still, save for the crickets outside singing through the quiet.

  We talked about my departure for royal school. They hugged me, and I hugged them back. I looked into their eyes—warm, nervous, red with emotion—and I told them:

  “When I return in three years… I will marry you all.”

  Their eyes filled with tears. Their faces flushed with joy.

  And then, together, they said what would stay in my heart through all the years ahead:

  “We’ll be waiting for you. ?? ? ???. Urin neol saranghae.”

  I couldn’t help but blush. All three of them—at the same time? This moment would stayed with me through every academy day. Hehe.

  The night drew near, and we all fell asleep together, curled under the same blanket of silence. Eunchae retired to his bed. Sohwa slipped away like a shadow. Baekho, of course, slept standing outside the chamber like always. Typical Baekho. Hhh.

  The next morning, I woke alone. The warmth beside me was gone, but I heard footsteps outside.

  The door opened.

  My three soon-to-be wives entered, carrying breakfast, smiling like sunbeams. They helped me bathe and dress, preparing me for the journey ahead.

  To Daehwa—the city where my school, Hwaeon Academy, stood.

  The pride of the Kingdom of Geumryang.

  Once I was ready, they cuddled me one last time and kissed me on the cheek.

  “It’s great to be alive,” I whispered.

  From the door, my Eomeoni and Abeonim entered, dressed in quiet dignity. They caught me tangled in the arms of my future wives—

  I almost got caught, hehe. I turned, flustered, and told them:

  “I’ll marry them once I return.”

  They smiled softly.

  We spent the rest of the morning together—my parents, my lovers, my servants. All of them… pieces of my heart.

  My three maids handed me a handkerchief, handwoven, embroidered with their favorite flowers: a rose, a daisy, and an orchid. I laughed softly.

  “I love them so much,” I thought.

  Abeonim’s farewell:

  “Son. Remember this. Humble yourself—even if you’re better than everyone else.”

  He handed me his sword.

  “This blade’s been passed down for generations. Keep it well.”

  Eomeoni’s farewell:

  “You are my son. From the beginning… to the very end.”

  She gave me her phoenix hairpin.

  “It was given to me by your great-grandmother. It carries our blood.”

  Then came the final farewell from my three hearts.

  Hana (The Fire in His Heart):

  “I hate this. I hate watching you leave when all I want is to stay by your side.

  But I know you’ll do great things. So go—show them who you are.

  Don’t come back until the world remembers your name.

  I’ll be waiting. Red lips, red ribbon, and all.”

  “?? ? ???.”

  “Urin neol saranghae.”

  Yura (The Mind Behind the Crown):

  “I’ve watched you grow from the boy who questioned everything… into the man who leads without words.

  You’re not leaving us behind—you’re carrying us with you.

  So carry the love, the memory, the promise.

  And when it’s heavy… remember, it’s real.”

  “Come back to us, Your Majesty.”

  “?? ? ???.”

  “Urin neol saranghae.”

  Mirae (The Light in His Darkest Hours):

  “Three years feels like forever, doesn’t it?

  But I’ll be counting. Every moon. Every letter. Every dream.

  Come back stronger—but not too scary, okay?

  When you return, smile. That soft one you think no one sees.”

  “Don’t forget to laugh, and don’t forget us.”

  “?? ? ???.”

  “Urin neol saranghae.”

  As I walked toward the gate, my servants bowed deeply.

  Baekho, Eunchae, and Sohwa, in unison:

  “We wish you a safe journey, Wangja Mama.”

  A guard approached.

  “Wangja Mama. The carriage from Geumryang has arrived.”

  My father hugged me once more. My mother kissed my forehead.

  I turned, gave each of my lovers a goodbye kiss—and saw my parents’ eyebrows raise in surprise. Hehe. It was worth it.

  And then I stepped through the gate.

  And there they were.

  The people of Soryun.

  Not cheering. Not shouting. Just… watching.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Lined up along the path.

  Farmer Dalsu.

  Joon, clutching a bundle of pastries.

  Seo Haneul, bowing low.

  The five boys I trained, standing proud.

  None of them spoke.

  One by one, their hands rose to their hearts, then stretched out—palms open.

  A silent vow.

  We see you. We believe in you.

  I turned back and bowed.

  Not as a prince.

  As a boy raised by their kindness.

  Then I climbed into the carriage. The door closed with a soft finality.

  And as the wheels turned, I watched the fading hands…

  …until the gates of Yeonhwa closed behind me.

  Morning had barely cracked. The sky was pale, the wind light.

  We had made camp just off the road. The guards were out hunting in the woods. I stayed behind, sitting cross-legged in front of my tent, watching the trees breathe.

  “System Nova,” I said, half-bored.

  “What am I supposed to do while they try and catch rabbits?”

  System Notification:

  Skill Acquired – Animal Tamer (??? / Sujoja)

  “You now hold the ability to bond with wildlife, Master Jinseo. It is awakened by your spirit’s alignment with nature.”

  “Animal Tamer, huh?” I tilted my head. “How’d I unlock that?”

  “In situations of isolation and need, I adapt accordingly,” Nova replied calmly.

  “You needed a new eye. I gave you one.”

  “Thanks for the upgrade,” I smirked.

  I stood, raised my hand gently to the sky, and closed my eyes.

  A few moments passed.

  Then I heard it.

  A single cry.

  Wings beat against the wind. I opened my eyes to see a falcon gliding downward—fast, powerful, beautiful.

  It landed on my arm without hesitation.

  No fear. No resistance.

  Only understanding.

  System Nova:

  Falcon Acquired

  Type: Imperial Falcon

  Linked to master’s vision. Capable of long-range surveillance and spirit-mark tracking.

  “I can see through its eyes?” I asked.

  “You can,” Nova confirmed.

  I smiled.

  I reached up and whispered,

  “Let’s fly.”

  The falcon launched into the sky. In an instant, my vision blurred—

  —then snapped into focus above the trees.

  I could see the forest, the guards wandering the brush, deer moving cautiously through the branches.

  I saw everything.

  “So this is what it’s like to see beyond myself…”

  I sat down again, a little more aware of the world.

  And for the first time since I left Yeonhwa…

  I didn’t feel alone.

  The falcon circled high above, its eyes scanning the forest like mine.

  From inside the tent, I watched through its vision. Trees blurred beneath its wings. The guards were still out there—scattered, tense, and honestly… not doing great.

  “They’ve been out for an hour,” I murmured.

  “Not even one rabbit.”

  I could see it all. One of them had even tripped over a root. Twice.

  Nova’s voice buzzed softly in my mind.

  “Your father said to stay in the tent.”

  “He also said to humble myself,” I replied, standing up.

  “And right now, I’m humbling myself… by helping them not starve.”

  I stepped out quietly.

  The forest welcomed me.

  Every branch, every stone beneath my feet—I moved around them like I was part of the earth. The air was crisp, the wind light. No distractions. Just instinct.

  Through the falcon’s view, I spotted them.

  A group of deer, about forty yards out. Calm. Grazing.

  I picked up a fallen branch.

  Nothing special. Just wood.

  I held it gently, let my breath slow, then imbued it with a small flicker of fire essence—just enough to sear through muscle, not burn the forest down.

  I threw it.

  Silent. Clean. Fast.

  One large deer dropped instantly. No struggle. No noise. One perfect hit.

  “Nova?” I whispered.

  “Target neutralized. Precision: 97.2%.”

  I slung the deer over my shoulder and headed back to camp.

  By the time the guards returned—muddy, frustrated, empty-handed—I was already turning the meat over a campfire, letting the smoke rise into the early dusk.

  They froze.

  One of them dropped their bow.

  “Where… where did you get that?”

  “Hunted it,” I said casually, flipping the meat. “It wasn’t hard.”

  They looked at me like I had three heads.

  “You hunted that… alone?”

  I nodded. “With a stick.”

  “Bare-handed…? You’re twelve—”

  I just smiled.

  “Eat up. We’ve got more walking tomorrow.”

  They did. In silence. Eyes wide. Minds racing.

  They weren’t sure whether to thank me…

  …or fear me.

  The sun rose slow and gold, casting long shadows through the trees.

  The guards were quiet during breakfast. Still unsure how to look at me after last night. One of them bowed twice before even speaking. Another avoided eye contact entirely.

  I didn’t say anything. Just stepped into the carriage and sat with my back straight and my eyes closed.

  “Nova.”

  “Yes, Master Jinseo?”

  “Falcon view.”

  My senses shifted instantly—upward.

  I soared through the falcon’s eyes, high above the tree line. The forest stretched endlessly below, a ripple of green and dark roots. Birds scattered. Deer grazed. Wolves stalked the edges.

  It looked peaceful.

  But then…

  Sharp cry. Sudden dive.

  My falcon shrieked, its wings cutting through the air. I focused deeper.

  And I saw them.

  Black figures. Moving fast. Too fast.

  There were at least a hundred of them, moving through the woods like smoke—cloaked in torn robes, skin cracked, and eyes glowing white beneath their hoods.

  Bandits?

  No.

  Not anymore.

  “Nova,” I whispered. “What am I looking at?”

  System Notification:

  “These are former humans—bandits twisted by fragments of fallen angelic power. They are no longer men. Now, they are monsters.”

  I sat forward slowly.

  The carriage jolted, the horses sensing something ahead.

  “Thanks for the heads-up, Nova.”

  “No problem,” it replied.

  I reached for my sword.

  And then I heard it.

  The falcon screamed overhead.

  The wind shifted.

  The trees stopped moving.

  And I knew— They were here.

  The falcon dove. I opened my eyes.

  “Stop the carriage.”

  The guards jolted. “W-Wangja Mama?”

  “Stop it.”

  They did.

  I stepped out slowly. The earth felt… wrong. Like the roots had curled back in fear. The air was thick with rot and something older than blood.

  Then I saw them.

  They emerged from the forest, one by one—shadows wrapped in shattered cloth, their eyes burning with holy fire twisted into something cursed.

  One hundred of them.

  Their bodies cracked with angelic residue. Wings that weren’t wings. Limbs that bent too far.

  Once men. Now monsters.

  The guards behind me froze.

  “Wangja Mama,” one whispered, trembling, “this isn’t something we can fight—”

  “I know,” I said.

  I stepped forward and drew my sword.

  “That’s why I’m not letting any of you die.”

  They charged.

  Howling. Screeching. Too fast. Too wrong.

  Time cracked around me.

  Time Structure ignited in my blood—

  Everything slowed, like the world had to catch up to me.

  I moved.

  Slash. Turn. Slash. Pivot.

  The first four fell before they even realized I was gone.

  They surrounded me. So I let them.

  My vision locked in—All Seeing activated.

  Every footstep. Every twitch. Every breath became a path through them.

  I cut through twenty.

  Then thirty.

  Then forty.

  But they didn’t stop.

  “Nova.”

  “Yes?”

  “Tracking?”

  “Target count: 61 remaining. Suggesting a shift in weapons.”

  “I agree.”

  I sheathed my sword.

  The air pulsed.

  And I reached behind me.

  Asherign.

  The legendary chain weapon forged from my first battle with a fallen beast.

  It slid down my arm, coiling like a serpent ready to strike. Glowing with embered runes, whispering with the memory of divine hatred.

  The monsters paused.

  Even they could feel it.

  “You took power from the fallen,” I said, voice low.

  “But I took something from them, too.”

  I spun.

  Asherign exploded outward.

  CLANG. SNAP. WHIP.

  Ten fell instantly, crushed and torn in mid-air.

  I spun again.

  The chain moved like it had a will of its own, bending through the crowd, wrapping around legs, necks, torsos—dragging them like dust through fire.

  “This isn’t a weapon…” one guard whispered. “It’s a curse.”

  They kept coming.

  So I gave them no chance.

  “Nova. Chain assist. Pattern: Spiral Crush.”

  “Confirmed.”

  I jumped.

  Asherign spiraled beneath me, carving a storm of ash around my landing.

  They screamed as their bodies were shredded.

  And when it was done—

  Silence.

  Only ash remained.

  Ash and five guards who didn’t know what to say. One of them dropped to his knees.

  “What… are you?”

  I didn’t answer.

  I stood in the center of what was once a battlefield.

  My cloak torn. My shoulder bleeding. Asherign cooling like a beast that had just eaten.

  And I whispered to no one but the wind:

  “Yeonhwa may be quiet…”

  “But I am not.”

  Silence.

  Not peace.

  Just the kind that comes when there’s nothing left to scream.

  The forest was still.

  Ash floated through the air—soft, like snow that had forgotten how to be pure. It coated the trees, the grass, my cloak. My hand still gripped Asherign, the chain faintly pulsing with heat, like it hadn’t had enough.

  My shoulder throbbed where I’d been clipped. My ribs ached. But I was breathing.

  Alive. Standing.

  I turned slowly, and behind me—what was left of the five guards.

  One had fallen to his knees, his helmet half-bent from a fall.

  Another clutched a burn along his arm.

  Two just stood there, frozen, eyes wide like they were staring at a god they didn’t believe in.

  One finally spoke.

  “W-Wangja Mama… what… what are you?”

  I looked past him. Past all of them.

  At the field I had made.

  Charred soil. Scorched roots. What remained of one hundred corrupted lives.

  I should’ve felt something.

  But I didn’t.

  Or maybe I did. And I was too tired to name it.

  I stepped forward, dragging Asherign behind me. The chain clinked softly like bells muffled by ash.

  “Get up,” I said, voice quiet. “The dead won’t chase us.”

  They obeyed. Not out of discipline. But out of fear.

  We returned to the carriage.

  No one spoke.

  They kept glancing at me—but when my eyes met theirs, they looked away like they’d seen something they shouldn’t have.

  When I reached the steps of the carriage, I stopped and turned.

  “None of this leaves this forest,” I said.

  They stiffened.

  “You saw what happened. But no one else needs to. Not Geumryang. Not the court. Not even the academy.”

  “This… never happened.”

  They nodded, all five of them.

  But I could see it in their eyes.

  They’d never forget.

  And deep down…

  Neither would I.